Take Me To The Riot
by KuroRiya
Summary: Marco has always been intrigued by Jean, the school's resident punk. But it's always been a fearful and distant admiration. When the school system and Marco's kind nature forces them together, he's surprised how normal the once enigmatic boy turns out to be. And he's interested to see how Jean will change him, and vise versa. Or the one where a punk and a nerd become boyfriends.
1. Chapter 1

Marco knew the name Jean Kirstein quite well. He heard it on a nearly constant basis, from friends, or passing gossipers. He heard it over the intercom, on rosters, shouted from the mouths of angry teachers and supervisors. But he hardly knew the face. The boy never came to class, if he could help it, and was nearly always either suspended, in detention, or serving some in-school suspension time.

But, when he did catch a glimpse, he couldn't help but try to see more. The boy was always a fleeting presence, passing by in peripheral, and then disappearing down a different hall or into a room. All Marco could manage to take in before he was gone would be the different colored hair, tawny on the top, chestnut on the bottom.

Or perhaps it would be the leather jacket. Or the too many buckles or splashes of red all over his black clothing. Or the chain connecting the legs of his pants together loosely. Or the countless holes in his jeans. But never did he see the entire Jean Kirstein. Not in the flesh, anyway. He saw his handiwork. The graffiti he left all over the school, the curses he etched into desks, the kids that were terrified of him for one reason or another.

He'd seen pictures of him in the yearbook, scowling at the camera, facial piercings glaring against the flash. He'd seen the girls gossiping about him excitedly by the water fountain or in the lunch line. Apparently he was something of a catch, if the squealing girls were any indicator. They didn't even notice Marco, or that he was listening with burning curiosity. Such were the perks and grievances of being a nerd.

Marco was painfully curious about this boy. He didn't know when it'd started, this fascination, but he knew that it was burning more every day that the one in question eluded him. But what could he do? He was too scared of the boy to openly follow him or seek him out. He needed an excuse, or a happy coincidence.

He got lucky.

Apparently, in the middle of trying to sneak out and cut class, Jean had been caught. After receiving a weekend detention, he was escorted into class, and sat down. Right next to Marco. Never before had he had a chance to take in so much of Jean's appearance. He had four facial piercings in addition to the ones in his ears; One in his eyebrow, one through the bridge of his nose, and then two below his bottom lip. What were those called? Snake bites? Or were they angel bites? Marco didn't know the difference.

His clothes for the day included a pair of skinny jeans that could hardly be considered jeans at all anymore, a ripping t-shirt that said "Star Fucking Hipsters," a pair of combat boots long past their glory days, too many studded bracelets to be counted, and a glare that could kill. Marco quickly dropped his eyes before he could be caught staring, as if he was the only one doing it. Jean wasn't someone you got to see very often.

Jean huffed next to him, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, far enough that the front legs came off the ground. Marco's stomach lurched a bit as he imagined the boy falling backwards, hitting his head, bleeding on the floor. But he didn't, maintaining his balance and sighing with exasperation as the teacher began their lesson.

It wasn't until the teacher started passing out a quiz that anything other than annoyance crossed the teen's face. But it quickly turned to dread as he stared down at the fifty point quiz, clearly not prepared for it. He ran a pale hand through the lighter hair at the top of his head, looking around with mild panic.

It was a bit mind blowing for Marco. He'd never imagined that someone like Jean Kirstein would have test anxiety. He assumed that Jean didn't care about his grades, considering how much class he cut. This was the first time Marco had ever seen him in one, actually. Yet there he was, biting at the nail of his thumb, brows furrowed as he started reading the questions.

Eventually, he leaned over, and Marco felt his limbs tense.

"Hey, let me borrow a pencil." He said, voice low so the teacher wouldn't hear. It took Marco a few seconds to realize what had been asked of him, and he quickly dove for his pencil bag, retrieving his nicest, newest pencil and offering it.

"Thanks." Came the reply. Marco only nodded, returning to his own quiz. But then, only a few seconds later, the boy was leaning over again.

"Hey, let me borrow the answer to number three." Was the inquiry this time. Marco looked over in surprise, biting his lip nervously, glancing toward the teacher. His heart was racing; He'd never cheated on anything before, let alone in the presence of a teacher! But, the way Jean was looking at him, he got the feeling he didn't really have much of a choice in the matter.

With one last look at the teacher, he scooted his paper closer to Jean's line of sight, palms sweating as the boy quickly copied, taking more answers than just the one he'd asked for. Marco assumed he was free to continue working when Jean had caught up to him, and pulled his paper back to his portion of the desk, scribbling away, hoping beyond hope that the teacher was paying as little attention as it seemed.

They continued in silence, but, just before he was about to get up and turn his paper in, Jean tapped him on the arm, looking at him pointedly. Again, his heart was racing with anxiety, but he did as he had before, scooting the paper over and letting Jean get the answers. He pretended to scribble a bit more before finally taking it up, leaving it with the teacher. There was no indication that he'd been caught.

He returned to his seat, and doodled idly in his notebook, trying to feel bad about what he'd done. But it was hard, seeing as it had kind of felt like self-defense. A few minutes later, Jean took his own quiz up, and sat back down as well, reaching over and plucking the notebook out from under Marco's hands without a warning, making the bigger teen jump in his chair. Marco watched, uncertain of the boy's intentions. When he received it back, Jean had written him a message.

'Thanks. Didn't know there was a quiz. I changed a few answers so the teacher won't know. Nice doodles.'

The scrawl was sharp and slanted, but legible. Marco didn't know whether he should respond or not, but he figured it would be rude not to.

'Um, thanks, and no problem. Maybe if you came to class on occasion, you'd know when tests were.'

He didn't mean it to sound rude, but he realized, as soon as he'd scooted the notebook over to Jean's side of the table, that it probably came off that way. He wished to yank the paper out, crumple it up, and eat it. But Jean had already seen. Marco hid his face in his arms, praying to god that he wasn't going to get beaten up after class.

He emerged when he felt something poking at his arm. It was the corner of the notebook, and he looked at the message, scared it might say something like 'afterschool in the parking lot.'

But it didn't say anything like that.

'Maybe. Class is so boring though. :P'

He quirked a brow at the little emoticon. It wasn't something he'd ever have expected Jean to write, but it definitely soothed his pounding heart. At least he wasn't getting beaten up, for now.

'It can be, yeah. But you'll never graduate if you fail your classes!'

He waited for the response, wondering what Jean had to say on the matter. Maybe, somehow, the boy managed to pass his classes in the end. Maybe he aced the finals, and therefore scraped by?

'I don't care. Dropping out as soon as I'm old enough.'

Marco frowned, looking over to the teen. He didn't like the sound of that.

'That's such a waste! You've made it this far! It's just one more year!'

It took Jean a longer time to reply this time, but the message wasn't any longer. Maybe he just needed a while to think.

'It's too much for me. Not good at studying and shit. Too stressful. And I'm stupid.'

Marco sighed, thinking over his answer before he started writing.

'No one is stupid, but if you're having a hard time, then get a tutor? I have a friend that's tutoring one of his classmates, and they're both doing great this year!'

He wondered how his suggestion would go over. It was more than just the difficulty of school, surely. It was obvious that Jean didn't like even the idea of it, considering how often he skipped. But why bother coming at all, if he really cared so little?

'No one wants to tutor me, trust me.'

Marco didn't know what to say. He could understand what Jean meant. While he was talked about, even admired throughout the school, it was a fearful admiration. No one had ever claimed to be close to Jean, and no one actively tried to be. While he could be seen talking to a few people on occasion, he didn't really have any friends to speak of. Everyone was too mystified by his reputation, by his enigma of an existence, to really talk to him.

But that wouldn't do, Marco decided. Everyone deserved a fair chance. But, before he could start writing his response, the bell to dismiss classes rung, and the scooting of chairs and chatter of classmates made him unable to fulfill his intentions. Everyone began leaving, and he nearly lost the teen in the shuffling of the crowd.

Thankfully, Jean didn't move with any sense of urgency, and was the last one, besides Marco, to make it to the door.

"Jean!" He called, walking quickly to catch up. The boy seemed surprised to hear his own name, but he paused as Marco rushed to meet him. As soon as he had, though, he felt his heart beating against his chest, face flushing. Calling out had seemed a good idea, in theory. But now he found himself a bit scared to say anything. Writing had been so much easier.

"What?" The other teen asked, voice tinged with a bit of impatience. Marco twisted his fingers into the hem of his shirt.

"U-Um, I…" He began, swallowing. He had to say it. "I would tutor you, if you wanted!" He said, much too quickly, the words likely jumbled. But that was the most he could manage. He wanted to run, but knew he should wait for a response, one way or the other. He wasn't expecting the one he got.

"Really?" Jean asked, genuine surprise lacing his tone. Marco looked up, surprised as well. Jean didn't look angry, or offended, or disgusted. Just surprised.

"Uh, yeah! I get A's, so I'm qualified, I think." He offered, giving a small smile. Jean seemed to be thinking on it, fingers tapping against his thigh.

"You wouldn't mind?" He finally asked, looking vaguely hopeful. Marco's smiled widened.

"No, of course not! I don't do much afterschool besides studying anyway." He admitted, running his fingers through his hair. Jean politely chose not to comment.

"That… That'd be awesome, uh…" He trailed.

"Marco." The freckled teen supplied, offering his hand. Jean took it, shaking. It felt strange, dangerous to have touched the famous Jean Kirstein. But he shook like anyone else did.

"Marco. When would we meet?" He asked, and they started walking. Marco set up times, working around his few club activities. Before they had to split up to go to separate classes, they'd designated a place to meet and a few days a week that worked for the both of them. Jean promised to go to class to find out what he needed to be working on, and Marco promised to talk to his friend about proper tutoring techniques.

As it would turn out, Armin was more than happy to share his teaching methods. And, Marco thought to himself, if they worked on Eren, they'd work on Jean. He took notes instead of picking at his food, thanking Armin as they went to different classes. He already had a few ideas forming in his mind just from talking about it, and he found himself looking forward to meeting Jean afterschool.

Jean was already waiting at the designated tree out back when Marco got out of class. He watched the other boy from afar for a few seconds, admiring his lanky form, dark and shadowed underneath the leaves, smoke billowing from his lips and his lit cigarette. He was beautiful, he thought. But no, thoughts like that wouldn't do.

He approached cautiously, offering a smile when the teen's head lifted to see who was approaching. He quickly snuffed the cigarette against the ground, stepping on it to make sure it was out. The smell of smoke lingered though. Marco was starting to think he kind of liked the smell of tobacco.

"Hey." Jean offered.

"Hey." Marco replied, following Jean to his car. It was beat up, on its last limb. But at least he had one. Marco still took the bus.

They drove to Marco's house, and Jean parked on the side of the road, waiting as Marco collected his bag out of the backseat. Jean didn't have one. Marco led him inside, instructing him to take his shoes off as he headed to the kitchen and sat his bag down on the table. Jean followed him, pulling out a chair and waiting while Marco got a snack, making enough pizza rolls for two.

They both munched while Marco started pulling things out, getting organized before even starting. Then he asked about what Jean needed to work on, and they got down to business, studying late enough that Mrs. Bodt had the pleasure of meeting the two-toned teen. She insisted, after hugging him in a common display of Bodt hospitality (much to Marco's horror,) that he was far too skinny and needed to stay for dinner. After some convincing, Jean agreed, and somehow squeezed in between Marco and his younger brother, Nardo.

All of the Bodts stole glances at the guest, curious and perhaps worried about Marco's suddenly strange taste in friends. Jean was, after all, a bit outside of Marco's friendship norm. The black and leather and chains and studs contrasted pretty strongly with Armin's pastels and cutesy sweaters. But they were nothing but polite to him, offering him second helpings and pointing out his bony wrists when he tried to refuse. He ended up taking the second helping, and dessert.

When he finally announced that he was leaving, Marco saw him to the door, smiling as he opened the door and took his first step out. His heart was sinking a bit as the boy left. He'd probably scared him off with his family. Maybe it had been weird of him to offer in the first place. Surely Jean was uncomfortable after getting a total of ten hugs before he left. He'd forgotten to warn Jean that his family was Italian. He'd probably figured that out though.

Jean turned right before he left the porch.

"Oh, thanks for helping me out, man." He called, rubbing the back of his head. "I actually understood statistics for once. Uh, Friday, right?" He asked, and Marco could hear the hope in his voice. He grinned, nodding. "Alright. See you."

And he was gone, hopping into his car and driving home.

But he was at school the next day. He was in classes. Marco had four whole classes with him, and he'd never even realized. But there he was, and he'd always steal the seat next to Marco, regardless of who may or may not have sat there before. No one ever said anything to him. He was still Jean Kirstein, after all.

He'd lean over and ask Marco questions when he didn't understand, or scribble notes to him when he was bored. Marco started bringing a notebook just for passing notes with Jean after the one he usually carried started to get thin. It was only two days till Friday, but already they'd found a new routine.

When Friday did come, they drove to Marco's house, like the Wednesday before. Marco made a snack. They sat at the kitchen table, and studied. Before Mrs. Bodt came home, Jean snuck out for a smoke break. When he came back, they returned to their studying, Marco trying to be discreet as he inhaled the smoky scent. But at some point, when they'd reached the awkward state where there wasn't much else to work on, Marco let his curiosity get the better of him.

"Jean?" He prompted, getting a hum in reply. "I get that you skip school because you didn't plan on graduating. But why the graffiti?" He wondered, looking over at the paler boy. Jean was quiet for a while, likely thinking about his answer.

"I don't really know. It's just… It's something I can do. They try so hard to control me, and my future. But they can't control my paint." He offered, shrugging. "I'm not good at art or anything, and I always get into it with art teachers when I try. But no one grades graffiti. Everyone has a chance of seeing it though. It's an outlet, I guess. Better I paint a wall than fight someone. Trust me, I've done that too." He continued. Marco swallowed, eyeing the spiked wristbands, imagining how much they'd hurt if Jean punched someone with them on. Maybe that's why he wore them.

"I'm… I'm not a terrible guy, or anything." Jean said, letting his pencil idle. "I won't say I'm misunderstood or anything. I just… I don't fit in well. I don't like to live the same way other people do, and that results in a lot of disagreements. But I'm still human, you know?"

Marco frowned, reevaluating his previous beliefs about Jean. Truth be told, even though they'd started spending a bit of time together, he was still seeing Jean as something… Well, not real. Jean didn't feel like he was really part of the world, or, at least, not a part of Marco's. He was so different, so unlike Marco. It seemed unbelievable that someone like that could exist in the same space.

But the words hit home. Jean was a human. He had feelings, and he struggled with things just like anyone else. He ate food, and used the bathroom, and hopefully showered. He caught colds, and had to blow his nose, and had itches he had to scratch. And it all kind of overwhelmed Marco; so much so that he forced himself to return to his homework and check the answers over to make it look like he wasn't avoiding talking. He'd only babble nonsense if they did.

They worked in silence till Marco's mother bustled into the kitchen, crushing Jean in another hug. Marco only sighed, patting Jean's back as he all but hacked up a lung. And the awkwardness was gone then. And Jean was human. Marco's family had seen that, but it had only just dawned on Marco. He'd have to start treating Jean appropriately.

He stayed for dinner again, eating just as much before he bid his goodbye. But not before Mrs. Bodt informed him that he was always welcome to join them for dinner.

Marco took him to the door again, leaning in the frame after Jean passed through.

"Thanks." Jean said, giving Marco a smirk.

"It's no problem. My mom likes you, so you can come over any time you like." He returned, giving a smile of his own. "Oh, I like you too. You don't have to wait till you're hungry to visit." He added. Jean stood awkwardly for a moment, fidgeting with one of the spiked bracelets around his wrist.

"Uh, actually… I was wondering if you might want to go to a party with me this weekend?" He inquired. Marco's brows rose in surprise. He'd never been invited to a party before, nor had he ever attended one.

"I… I might not be the best person to ask. I don't really know how to party." He admitted. Jean snorted.

"Well, for starters, you show up." Was his curt reply. "I'll be over for you tomorrow at seven." He informed the other teen, heading for his car before Marco could decline. He closed the door after the car sped off down the street, looking at the wood with fear and excitement. He was going to a party. His very first party. And Jean had asked him to go. Jean wanted to hang out with him, outside of tutoring. Jean Kirstein.

He had to smile to himself, because, a few days ago, Jean was an enigma, someone to be wary of, someone to admire from afar. Now they were going to a party together.

Marco would have to find his favorite sweater vest.

A/N: Well, I told myself to wait, but I couldn't anymore! I've had this one saved up for a long time now, and wanted to post it, and my excitement won over my restraint.

I'll admit, this story is going to be a bit fast paced, as I don't want it to go on endlessly like most of my others do. It's already five chapters long, and counting, so it's a decent sized fic, but I don't want to realize thirty chapters down the road that I hecked up. So just be prepared for a pace a bit quicker than my other stories. It does slow down a bit as it goes though, promise!

Anyway, I think it's important to mention, there will be a little bit of recreational drug use in a later chapter, as well as underage drinking. You know, normal teenage stuff. But I like to mention these things. Hopefully nothing that'll trigger anything though. I'm trying to keep this story pretty mild. I just wanted anyone who would want to know that ahead of time that it's going to happen, eventually.

Alright, I'll leave it at that! Thank you for reading, and feedback is always appreciated. I don't usually work with third person, so let me know if you have any comments on that or anything. Thanks again!

KuroRiya  
九六りや


	2. Chapter 2

Well, he found his favorite sweater vest, but not his nerve. Even when Jean pulled into his driveway and knocked at the door, even when his mother answered it and directed him upstairs to the last door on the left, even when he rapped at the wood of Marco's bedroom door. And, even as he told him to come in, anxiously smoothing down his shirt underneath the vest, he was still searching for it.

He took in Jean's attire. It was the same as any other day, really. Some punk band shirt, a denim jacket with patches sewn in, a few silver rings around random fingers, a pyramid studded belt trying to hold up too-skinny jeans, and the ever-present combat boots. Marco felt silly in his sweater now. What had he been thinking, wearing a sweater to a party? As if he wasn't a big enough dork already!

But Jean only nodded in approval, messing up his hair a bit before grabbing his arm and dragging him out to the car, promising to take care of him as they passed Mrs. Bodt. He felt his face flush, but didn't object, getting in and letting Jean drive them to wherever this party was being held.

Jean parked on the side of the road, as the driveway was already full of cars. It was a nicer house; big and obviously owned by someone relatively well off. Marco followed Jean nervously, whining low in his throat as Jean let himself in, but still following despite his discomfort with the idea of breaking in.

He was surprised when he entered. The music wasn't so blaringly loud that he couldn't hear himself think. There weren't dead people lying in puddles of their own vomit, or couples humping against the wall. No one was snorting crack off of the glass coffee table, and no one was shooting heroin in a corner. He breathed a sigh of relief, tailing Jean into the kitchen.

He was thankful when he noticed that he wasn't the only person not dressed in punk attire. In fact, there weren't many who were. Jean still stuck out.

When they entered the kitchen, Marco nearly stumbled right back out, startled by the sheer height of the man they'd walked in on. But he only grinned, grabbing Marco's shoulder to help steady him. Jean grinned too, clapping the big guy on the shoulder, the gesture looking a tad awkward thanks to the height difference.

"Reiner, this is Marco." He said, gesturing toward the still frozen teen. Reiner. He'd heard that name. Reiner played football. The one in question stuck his huge hand out, enveloping Marco's almost entirely.

"Ah, you're the guy trying to get this misfit through school, huh?" He wondered, voice loud and full of mirth. But Marco liked it. He smiled nervously.

"Um…" He hesitated, not sure what would be appropriate to say. Jean barked a laugh.

"Like you can even talk! If Bertl didn't write your essays for you, you'd have flunked out years ago." He pointed out, and Reiner laughed as well.

"Yeah, fair enough. Anyway, Jean tells me this is your first party." He said, turning to Marco. The teen nodded shyly. "Alright, well, this is my place. Don't break anything that looks expensive. If you need anything, or can't find something, look for me. I'm pretty hard to miss. Drinks are over there." He said, pointing to the kitchen table, littered with bottles of every kind of alcohol Marco had ever heard of, and dozens he hadn't. "Help yourself. If you've never had a drink before though, then have Jean help you out. He can show you the ropes." He suggested. Marco nodded again, nervously eying the bottles.

"There's food all over the place, at least until Sasha gets here. And I've got a room set up for you guys if you do decide to get drunk. Keys, Jean." He demanded, turning to the other teen. Jean reluctantly pulled them out of his pocket, handing them over with a sigh. "They'll be with Bertl." He added, walking off after winking at Marco. "Have fun! Oh, and watch out, Jean gets handsy when he's drunk!" He called.

There was a moment of silence as the hulking teen left, Jean and Marco standing awkwardly to the right of the table. Neither mentioned the latter part of what Reiner had said. Marco, again, turned to eye the bottles. He knew that there was alcohol at parties, but he never imagined it would be so much. And it hadn't dawned on him that he would have to drink when he was getting ready to go. Now he was regretting it.

Jean clasped his shoulder for a second.

"Hey, you don't have to drink if you don't want to." He said softly. It was such a strange contrast to his appearance, all spikes and ripped clothing, but Marco nodded appreciatively. "Not everyone does. Bertl is everyone's designated everything. He keeps keys, helps people to bathrooms, drives them home if they need it. And Krista doesn't usually have more than one. I didn't bring you here to force drinks on you. I want you to have fun." He explained. Marco smiled, heart fluttering at the words.

He didn't know why, but hearing that from Jean meant a lot to him. Oh, who was he kidding? He knew why. He liked Jean. He always had. He just hadn't allowed himself to think it. But it was becoming painfully obvious. It was in the way he would think about the boy long after he was gone; think about his spikes and his zippers and his worn out combat boots, or his chestnut and cream colored hair. Or the way he'd steal his father's ash tray and 'accidentally' spill a few of the ashes along his windowsill, so that the smell would linger in his room. It was Jean's smell, and he hadn't realized that he loved it until he'd started spending time with Jean. Though, it was more than just ashes. It was smoke, and aftershave, and something a little off, sort of like lemons. He was still trying to put it in words. Kind of like the boy himself. Still, he knew better than to mention it to Jean.

Jean had moved over to the table, grabbing for a beer from a big case. He popped the top off of it and took a big drink, sighing with satisfaction. Marco eyed the brown bottle with fear, awe, and curiosity. Everyone drank beer. His mother, his father, his older siblings, Jean. Was it good? Or was it, like, a requirement?

Jean caught him staring, and smiled, reaching to pull another one out. He popped the lid off, and Marco watched a puff of vapor curl into the air, ghosting around Jean's long fingers. He was then handed the bottle, and he held it cautiously. He still wasn't sure if he wanted to drink at all. He'd never done it before, nor had he ever had intentions of trying it before he was twenty-one. But, watching Jean drink it down, watching everyone around him doing the same… It had him curious.

So he took a swig. He then proceeded to hack and regret his decision immensely, lips curling from the terrible flavor. Jean only cackled, patting his back.

"You should try cheap beer. It's even worse." He laughed, and Marco whined.

"Why would you drink it if it's so horrible?" He demanded.

"You stop tasting it after a while. And I'll be going for the whiskey in a bit. I always start with a beer though. At least then you know that it can't get any worse." He offered. Marco's nose crinkled and he eyed the bottle with disdain. But he'd taken it, it was his to finish.

So he set to work, sipping at it occasionally and snacking in between to rid his mouth of the flavor. Jean was already halfway through his second one when Marco finally finished his first, the flavor only getting worse as he approached the bottom. He was glad when he was done, and handed Jean his bottle to be thrown away.

Jean smirked, grabbing one of the red solo cups stacked on one side of the table, fingers tracing over the lips of several bottles before plucking one out, pouring a little in, and handing that to Marco. He poured himself a more generous serving, then put the bottle down.

"Alright, Bodt. This is whiskey. Oh, hmm… You might want a chaser. I usually say no chasers for whiskey, but it's your first time. Hold on." He said, putting his drink down and opening the fridge, taking out a bottle of Dr. Pepper and pouring it in a cup, which he handed to Marco. Marco sloshed the amber liquid, still a little nervous about this whole drinking thing.

He brought the cup to his lips as Jean did, but not before taking note of how stark the red plastic was against pale white skin. He took it all in one drink. It stung, and his eyes watered, but he managed to get it down, frantically drinking the soda to relieve the burn. It worked for the most part, and he winced as Jean took another drink from his own cup.

"That's even worse!" He whined. Jean only laughed again.

"Whiskey is definitely not for everyone." He agreed, peeling the denim jacket off and draping it over one of the kitchen chairs. "Hmm… We'll try one more. It's not a good idea to mix a bunch of different kinds. If you don't like rum, then you're sticking to beer for the night." He said, and Marco sighed. Another one? Well, just one more.

Jean searched through the bottles, finally pulling one out. He then went to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of coke, pouring both into the solo cup. Marco raised a brow, suddenly questioning Jean's sanity. But he took the cup, sipping at it hesitantly as Jean watched him eagerly. He was surprised to find that it didn't taste absolutely terrible. In fact, it was kind of sweet, cutting the bite of the alcohol well enough that he kept drinking. Jean grinned.

"Rum and Coke it is, then." He announced, taking the cup and filling it more, dropping in a couple cubes of ice. Marco took it back, and began timing his sips to Jean's. He ended up falling behind a bit, but that was okay. "Drink a lot of water." Jean warned, getting him one as he said it. "Trust me on this one." He plead. And Marco did.

His chest started to feel warm around the time Jean was pouring him a third cup, and he smiled goofily, taking much bigger drinks now. Jean too had loosened up, and he tried to drape an arm around Marco's shoulders, remembering a little too late that he was a bit shorter, so he ended up having to settle for wrapping his arm around Marco's back instead. Marco giggled, thinking it rather funny. Jean nudged him gently, but was grinning too.

He knew he was getting drunk. Well, maybe not drunk, but at least tipsy. He was aware of the distortion in his perception, but it wasn't impairing him yet. But, seeing as he was already on the borderline, he decided, to hell with it. He was a teenager, for heaven's sake, and he was going to drink at his first party if he wanted to. Jean was there. Jean would take care of him.

They walked out of the kitchen at last, and joined a small group of teens, gathered together and talking about something. Marco wasn't really interested in fireworks, or so he thought until he was animatedly mimicking the explosive conclusion of the New Year's fireworks display. Everyone seemed to think he was hilarious though, as they all laughed at his reenactment.

At some point, after getting a refill and trying a shot of vodka, the group wound up downstairs, someone setting up a card game. Marco had never played, but, after having Jean show him the ropes, he got pretty into it. Not as into it as Jean, who began threatening people with his spiked wristbands, but still into it. Jean's face when he lost, to Marco no less, was pretty priceless.

He wouldn't speak to him for a few minutes, shuffling outside to smoke, leaving Marco to entertain a small crowd that gathered to watch him impersonate Jean. Even Jean himself, who eventually returned, couldn't help but laugh, cuffing him over the head, then apologizing when it actually hurt thanks to the spiked bracelet. Marco couldn't be angry though, because he smelled smoky and wonderful.

Another shot of vodka, or maybe two, and Marco had to take a few extra seconds to do everything. Pulling his pants down to pee for the twentieth time took him about five seconds longer than it should have, but at least he wasn't missing the toilet. Finding Jean after peeing for the twenty fifth time proved a challenge. When he did finally find him, he hugged him close to his chest.

"Don't leave me like that!" He exclaimed, frowning deeply. Jean quirked a brow, patting his back.

"I didn't go anywhere." He grimaced, peeling Marco off of his person. "You better have washed your hands… I think maybe you should stop." He announced, plucking the cup from Marco's hands and finding a surface to put it on. Marco whined, but let Jean lead him away, back towards the front room. They socialized for a bit, Jean introducing Marco to practically everyone. Though Jean didn't seem particularly close to anyone, he seemed to know practically every person in attendance.

Marco was surprised how accepting everyone was of him. They didn't care that he was, usually, a straight-laced student. They didn't care that he didn't usually drink. They didn't care that he was wearing a sweater vest. They didn't care that he had no idea what he was doing, or that, halfway through explaining dolphin sex he'd switched to Jellyfish and their lack of brains. They just laughed and made him feel welcome. And Jean never left his side except to get himself another drink, which helped ease Marco's nerves.

He eventually convinced Jean to let him have a swig of his whiskey, since it'd been about an hour since he'd had anything. It went down much easier this time, and he smiled at the warmth that spread through his chest. Jean quickly reclaimed his glass, his hand finding Marco's back, resting in the small of it as they chatted.

At some point, someone beckoned Jean out back. Marco thought he remembered her being introduced as Sasha, though he'd seen very little of her, only when she came to find food. Jean headed her way, and Marco followed, waving goodbye to the group of new acquaintances. They ended up on the back porch, and Marco looked around at the small crowd that had amassed. He recognized a couple of them that he'd been talking to at some point, like Bertholdt, who had everyone's keys, and Connie, who was apparently Sasha's boyfriend. But he didn't really know what they were all doing outside.

Until he saw the little cigarette that was being passed around. Well, it wasn't really a cigarette, he reminded himself. He wasn't stupid, he knew the difference. He'd been nervous enough about one illegal substance, but two in one night?

Jean took it without question, putting it between his lips and inhaling, holding it in for several seconds before letting himself cough. Marco was concerned, but everyone before him had done the same thing, so it apparently wasn't a bad thing.

When he'd finished coughing, he offered it to Marco. He didn't shove it into his hands or anything, but the offer was there. Marco wasn't sure what he wanted to do. He knew it was supposed to be bad, knew it was illegal. He knew he should be anxious, scared. But he wasn't. Maybe that was all the rum talking.

"You don't have to, Marco." Jean said, leaning in close to his ear. He smelled smoky again, but it was different. It wasn't as good, but it wasn't bad either.

Marco took it, taking a little breath before bringing to his lips and trying to copy what Jean had done. But it burned too badly, and he coughed immediately, someone taking the blunt from his fingers while Jean patted his back.

"Hey, it's alright. It gets easier, I promise, baby." Jean cooed, getting Marco back upright, walking him over to a doghouse sturdy enough for him to sit on. He brushed fingers through his hair until he'd managed to catch his breath, and offered him a drink of water for his troubles.

"You're so weird, Jean." Marco announced, sipping at the water. This earned him a hum of confusion. "You wear all these dark, spiky clothes and say you beat people up. But then you're secretly all nice and stuff. What's up with that?" He demanded, looking up at the boy. Jean bit his lip, fighting a smile.

"You shouldn't assume everyone who dresses like a punk is an ass." He pointed out, tapping Marco's forehead playfully. Marco only pouted.

The blunt came around again, and Jean took another hit, passing it back to Marco.

"Alright, babe, when you suck it in, try to hold it in your lungs for as long as you can. You're still going to cough, but you'll feel more of the high if you can hold it in for a while." He explained. Marco nodded, bringing it up and doing as Jean said, managing to keep it in longer this time. He still hacked up a lung, but he couldn't say he really cared, sipping at his water to soothe the feeling.

It got a lot harder to focus after that, and he could barely understand what people were saying, laughing only because everyone else was. He was much more interested in the freckles spotting his arms, giggling to himself as he located not only the big, but also the little dipper. Jean nudged him, and Marco looked up, sharing his findings with his companion, which only earned him some cackling. He liked it when Jean laughed, and he liked the way he smelled. And they smelled the same now. Smoky. Maybe Jean would let him borrow his aftershave if he asked nicely?

They went back inside, finding a couch that wasn't already occupied and just chilling out for a bit, Marco still tracing stars in his freckles. He'd never realized how many he had until then. He tried to think of when he'd earned each one, but ended up just making up stories in his head for each, which eventually led him back into tracing patterns. Jean began doing the same, finger connecting them one by one to form something only he recognized. That was alright though, it felt nice.

At some point, Jean got himself another drink, and allowed Marco another shot of vodka. Marco was going to take it, but someone else plopped down on the couch behind him, knocking into him, and he fell forward, spilling most of the drink on Jean's stomach.

"Oh jeez, I'm sorry Jean!" Marco cried, setting the glass down and patting the wet patch on the band shirt. Jean swatted his hands away.

"It's alright, calm down. It's just a little vodka." He said quickly, taking a sip from his whiskey.

"But you're wet!" Marco insisted, stumbling into the kitchen and finding a towel, which he brought back and pressed into the spot. Jean groaned.

"Babe, that's my stomach, full of booze, that you are pushing on!" He grunted, and Marco gasped, dropping the cloth and holding his hands up in surrender.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" He promised, and Jean shook his head.

"It's fine, just calm down, sweetheart." Jean murmured, getting comfortable again, one arm wrapping around Marco's shoulders, able to do it this time because of their sitting positions. Marco was slouched back, while Jean sat up more straight. Maybe he was only sitting up because he wanted to be able to rest his arm over Marco's shoulders. That seemed a little silly, but, in his foggy mind, it also seemed possible.

His eyes began to feel heavy, and he was just bordering on drowsiness when the person who'd bumped him handed him another shot, explaining that they were sorry for making him spill his last one. He smiled widely at them, taking it and downing it quickly before getting comfortable again, laying his head against Jean's. He miscalculated a bit though, and ended up falling over, barely catching himself before he was in the other boy's lap.

"Shoot, sorry!" He laughed, shakily sitting himself back up. He grinned at Jean, but the gesture wasn't returned. Jean was just staring, and Marco's smile fell. Was Jean actually mad? He hadn't meant to fall over! He was just about to give a better apology, but he was cut off as Jean's arm came back around him, pulling him closer until their faces met in the middle.

It took him a good ten seconds to realize that he was kissing Jean. Maybe it was because it was the last thing he expected to happen, or maybe it was the alcohol, or the drugs, or the late hour. Whatever the reason, his late reaction was laugh-worthy. If he wasn't currently lip-locked with Jean Kirstein, he probably would have laughed at himself. But he _was _lip-locked with Jean Kirstein, so he bit it down, trying to focus on the feeling of it instead.

He didn't know what to think. It was his first time kissing anyone, especially a guy. He'd never thought of himself as gay, even when he'd admitted to himself that he liked Jean. But, thinking back on it, it probably should have dawned on him that he was at least a little queer. It didn't bother him as much as it probably should have. But, though he didn't have anything to compare it to, it seemed to him that Jean was a good kisser. And he was so wrapped up in the lips against his that he forgot to be afraid, forgot to be embarrassed about all the people at the party probably watching them.

What was Jean thinking? He'd never given off any indication that he was interested in guys either, and definitely not Marco. They'd studied together, and had dinner with the Bodts a couple times. But, the party aside, that was as far as their relationship really went. Then again, Jean didn't show many emotions in the first place. And, honestly, how did one know if someone liked them?

There was always the possibility that Jean didn't like him at all. Maybe he was just drunk, and wanted to make out with someone. Maybe Marco was just convenient. Reiner had mentioned that Jean got 'handsy' when he was drunk. Maybe, when they both sobered up, Jean would ask him to pretend like it'd never happen. Maybe he wouldn't even remember. And it would hurt if that was true, because Marco knew he'd never forget it. But he still couldn't force himself to stop, arms shaking as they slowly wrapped around Jean's neck.

His head was spinning, and everything but Jean began to fade into the background. Noises didn't make sense, words were lost to him, his eyes closed against the whirling of the room, and his nose could only detect the overwhelming amount of cologne that Jean had on, and the smoke, the ashes. It was so much, and Marco felt his stomach twisting, and barely managed to shove Jean off of him roughly, stumbling towards the bathroom.

He nearly didn't make it, but somehow managed to get to the toilet, stomach clenching as he emptied about half of its contents. He was in the middle of coughing and sputtering when Jean rushed in. Marco could see the panic on his face, but it melted into concern when he saw the state Marco was currently in. It was strange, and Marco had to wonder why he'd panicked. Was he worried that Marco didn't like him? With as hard as he'd shoved him, it might have seemed that way.

He wanted to tell Jean that he liked him just fine. Quite a lot, actually, if he was being honest. But his words were lost as he began retching again, his eyes watering as he threw more up into the porcelain. Jean quietly shut the bathroom door, then walked over, taking all of his bracelets off before he sat down next to the vomiting boy. He rubbed his back soothingly, patting any time Marco started coughing or heaving. When it seemed that Marco was done, he pulled him back, flushing the toilet before he let Marco lean against it again.

"You're probably not done, sweetheart. I'm going to go get you some water, I'll be right back." He murmured, rubbing Marco's back for just a few seconds before disappearing for a moment. Marco felt a bit better, his cheek pressed against the rim of the toilet. He thanked the stars that it was clean, as far as he could tell. He'd had the fortune of stumbling towards the less-used bathroom in the house.

Jean came back quickly, a cup full of water in hand. Marco didn't want it, but Jean made him sit up and rinse his mouth out and take a few sips. And that made him feel a little better too, but he wanted to lie back down on the toilet. The coolness felt nice.

Jean set back to rubbing his back, finding a soothing pattern, and Marco dozed off, eventually waking when he heard some loud thrumming. Someone had turned the music up. He lifted his head warily, listening to the beat for a bit. But it began to make his stomach churn, so he tried to block it out instead. But it suddenly became the only thing he could hear. He could feel it, and it felt like drowning, and before he knew it, he was retching all over again. Jean, who had apparently dozed off as well, quickly snapped back to attention, patting his back gently as he heaved again. Not much came out this time, but he couldn't stop coughing, which only induced more heaving.

His eyes weren't watering anymore, he was crying. And he was embarrassed to admit it, but it was miserable, sitting there, wishing he could just throw up and be done with it. But there wasn't much left to purge, though his body was definitely trying. Jean waited patiently till he went limp, and made him wash his mouth out again, and drink some of the water. Marco only groaned, lying down on the floor, letting the tile cool his feverish body.

"Jean," he croaked, voice hoarse from vomiting and not speaking. Jean hummed to show he was listening while he refilled the cup in the sink. "Go back to the party. I can throw up by myself. There's no sense in you missing out on the fun." He pointed out. Jean ignored him though, sitting back down. Once he was situated, he pulled Marco's head into his lap.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby. You'll start feeling better in a bit, and we'll go lay down. Reiner has a room for us. But we're going to wait till you can get up." He cooed. Marco only sighed.

"Jean, I'm alright. I'll be here for a while." He urged, cuddling into the other boy's thighs despite his words.

"And so will I. Go ahead and sleep for a bit. I'll be right here when you wake up." He promised, brushing the sweaty bangs from Marco's forehead. Lucky for him, Marco didn't have the energy to protest further, and he did as he was told, dozing off to Jean's breathing instead of the thrum of the music. Somewhere in his mind, he registered Jean moving every once in a while; resituating his legs, rubbing Marco's back, taking something out of his pocket. But it didn't stir him long enough to even open his eyes.

He did wake up when someone knocked on the door, lashes fluttering a few times before he managed to keep them open. Reiner stood in the doorway, looking down at the two on the floor. He didn't make any snide remarks, only knelt down, big hand resting against Marco's cheek.

"Not feeling too good, are you?" He wondered, and Marco shook his head. Jean brought his fingers to Marco's hair, scratching lightly against his scalp. It felt wonderful.

"I let him have too much. I wasn't thinking. Hazing's not his thing." Jean announced, and Marco looked up to see his face set with a deep frown.

"Well, at least you know now. I'll go get you some crackers for when he's done puking. And, like I said, I have a room for you two. Second on the right." He replied, standing back up and leaving for the kitchen.

Marco sighed, closing his eyes again. He was feeling a lot better, and eventually convinced himself to stand. That, he quickly found out, was a mistake. He wasn't on his feet two seconds before he had to sit right back down in front of the toilet.

It was only dry heaving this time, but that was almost worse. Jean sat behind him, resting his head against Marco's back as he sobbed and coughed between retching, rubbing his sides, pressing kisses to his shoulders and whispering soothing words.

It worked, and Marco accepted the toilet paper he was handed, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose, then taking a drink of water when it was handed to him. He downed nearly half of it this time, gasping when he'd finished. Jean chuckled, hugging him from behind after he set the cup aside.

"Almost done, sweetheart. We'll stay just a little bit longer, just in case." He murmured, and Marco nodded, body exhausted. He heard the door open, and Reiner handed Jean a little package of crackers, then took his leave.

Marco eyed them warily, the thought of eating anything making his stomach hurt. Jean noticed, and he set them aside.

"I know you don't want to, but you need to eat them in a bit, baby. It'll make you feel better, trust me." He said, and Marco huffed, leaning back against Jean's chest. He just waited like that for a long time, trying not to fall asleep again. It seemed every time he woke up, he'd feel bad again. So maybe, if he could just stay awake, he'd feel better.

After about twenty minutes of nothing, Jean opened the package of crackers, pressing one to Marco's lips. He shut them stubbornly, refusing the food.

"Hey, we just talked about this. You'll feel better if you eat them." Jean reminded him, pressing again. Marco couldn't see how, but he opened his mouth and took a bite. It was hard to swallow, his mouth and throat feeling dry, but he did manage to get it down. Jean offered him a drink of water, which he gratefully took.

As it would turn out, Jean was right. The cracker made him feel a little better. So he ate both of them, and drank all of the water. Jean waited a few minutes for the food to settle before he attempted to get Marco on his feet. Even then, it was slow going. He first got him sitting on the toilet, head still bowed. Marco had to take a second, resting his forehead on the sink this time. Jean waited there, until Marco shooed him out. He had to pee.

Jean gave him a few minutes, then knocked. He received no answer, but opened the door anyway, finding Marco asleep again. With some effort, he brought the boy to consciousness, and got him to his feet, albeit shakily, and led him to the stairs after flushing the toilet for him. That was even slower going, and they had to stop and rest about halfway up. But, with some persistence, they managed to find the room they'd been allotted.

Jean let Marco sit on the bed, then got to the task of pulling his sweater and shirt off, then his pants. Marco whined lowly as his clothing was taken from him, blearily trying to cover himself.

"Oh, quit it you dork. You don't have anything I don't. And trust me; you'll be thanking me later. Sleeping in your clothes is horrible when you're drunk." Marco only sighed, rubbing at his forehead. "Come here." Jean commanded, and Marco did his best, getting up and stumbling over, just barely making it. Jean lowered him to the floor, making sure he was close enough to the wall to lean his back against it.

"I'm going to grab all of our stuff from the bathroom, and get a wash rag to wipe you down. Don't move, alright? I'll be right back." He promised, and Marco nodded, sinking his fingers into the thick carpet and drawing random shapes until Jean came back. He had gathered all of his bracelets and wristbands, as well as Marco's phone, and a washcloth, as promised.

Marco was already half asleep, so he let Jean wipe his face and chest down without much protest, aside from the initial shock of the barely-warm wetness of the cloth. Jean hung the cloth on the doorknob, then set to the task of taking his own clothing off, leaving them both in boxers. Marco couldn't appreciate the view though, too exhausted and miserable. Maybe in the morning.

Jean grabbed a trashcan from a corner in the room, bringing it to one side of the bed, likely Marco's side. He made sure it was close to the head, where Marco could easily get to it if he needed to.

Jean helped him off the floor again, hefting him into the bed and pulling the blankets up to his chin. Marco groaned, shoving them down. He still felt feverishly hot, and didn't want anything to do with the thick comforter. Jean sighed, getting into bed as well, and pulling his half of the bedclothes over his form.

"You're going to get really cold in a while, sweetheart. You should get the blankets warm now, so it's not so bad." He suggested, brushing Marco's bangs aside. Marco just shook his head, rolling over to face away from Jean, falling asleep almost immediately. Jean only sighed again, but let him do as he pleased.

It was dark when Marco next opened his eyes, and he didn't know at first what had woken him. Then he realized that he was shivering violently, and he reached for the comforter, fumbling with his shaking hands. Apparently he'd woken Jean too though, for the boy huffed, pulling the blanket over his bedmate easily.

"I told you." He said quietly, arms working underneath the sheets to pull Marco closer to him. Despite his embarrassment, Marco couldn't keep himself from snuggling up to the body heat, shoving his toes against Jean's warmer feet and pressing his icy nose against his collarbone.

"Fuck, babe!" Jean cursed, but he didn't push him away. On the contrary, he pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around the shaking frame, squeezing till he stopped shivering. Once his body was warm enough to relax, Marco got comfortable, pacing his breaths with Jean's until the both of them fell asleep for the last time that night.

A/N: This is pretty quick for an update, but I think I got a big enough reaction to go ahead and get the real story started. Like I said, the pacing of this story is a bit quicker than my usual work, but hopefully everyone's keeping up?

So like, they were pretty naughty in this chapter. All that illegal stuff and whatnot. But you kind of have to accept that this kind of stuff happens. I myself had a rather mystical experience like Marco's at my first party. (I'm eighteen too, go figure.) I too puked my guts out for hours. Everyone that gives drinking a go does it at least once though, so at least now I know where my limit is. And I'm pretty heavy-weight for my size, apparently. If you haven't gone drinking before, here is my warning; Beware jello shots. They may seem harmless enough, but they are typically a full shot of vodka, and they'll mess you up right quick. And my other warning; Go with someone you trust, and you know will take care of you. My night could have been a lot worse without a certain someone looking after my sorry ass.

Alright, well, I'm a busy gal. I must get back to work on something or other, so until next time, adieu! Thank you for reading, and feedback is always appreciated!

KuroRiya

九六りや


	3. Chapter 3

Waking up took a long time. While his mind started running consciously, his body was putting up a lot of protest. It was several minutes before he could move any part of himself. Even then, it was sluggish and ridiculously slow. He finally forced his eyes open, blinking blearily at whatever was in front of him. It was a pale peachy color and, as he eventually noticed, it was moving minutely.

It was Jean's collar, he put together, the movement was his breath. It took him even longer than that to fully realize what that meant. And then he was feeling everything. He could feel the other teen's breath, his warm arm draped over his waist, his legs trapped between Marco's own. His face got hot. These things could only add up to one conclusion; He'd slept with Jean.

He started thinking through the night's events, trying not to move. He didn't think he was ready to deal with Jean just yet. But the party was hazy at best. It was coming to him in snippets. The earlier parts were pretty clear. He remembered arriving with Jean, remembered the first four or so drinks he had, but then it started to static in his mind. He recalled talking to a few people, remembered going out back with Jean. He remembered smoking.

Marco groaned lowly, bringing a hand up to scrub across his face. He'd smoked! Weed! What on earth had he been thinking? As if the drinking wasn't bad enough! What would his mother say? He knew better than that, and yet…

Deciding to think about it later, he returned to trying to replay the night. They'd come back inside, and he remembered throwing up a lot. But not much else was coming to mind. Well, nothing he was willing to believe.

There was this nagging image of him making out with Jean on the couch. Playing it through his mind, he could almost remember the taste of the other boy. But he refused to trust the memory. It might have just been his mind implanting things it wanted to see. After all, why would Jean kiss him? He wasn't cool, or punk, or even attractive. He was just that good student with too many freckles and a kind heart. Nothing more, maybe less.

But how he wished it was a real memory. All he could do, really, would be to ask Jean about it. If they both had the memory, then it had happened. But what if he didn't have the same memory? Then it would be pretty obvious that Marco was harboring feelings. And that would, almost certainly, ruin any relationship they currently had, platonic or not.

He fretted silently until Jean began stirring. He was a much noisier person in the morning, waking with many sighs and groans, and a bit of curling back into the warmth of the blankets. Marco bit his lip, trying to fight down a smile, failing. Jean was really, dare he say it, cute when he was waking up.

The teen finally opened his eyes after a long yawn, blinking groggily at Marco. He winced though, closing them quickly. A whine came deep from his chest, and Marco's brows furrowed.

"A-Are you okay?" He wondered, debating on sitting up. But Jean nodded slowly, which calmed his fears a little.

"Just hungover." He supplied, voice quiet, as if he was scared his own voice would agitate the headache further. Marco only frowned, bringing a hand up to his forehead, stupidly checking for a fever. He didn't know why he did it, but it was the only motion he could remember from the many times he'd cared for sick siblings. Jean was a little clammy, but not feverish. Of course not; it was just a hangover.

"Fuuuuuck." He whined, and Marco's stomach dropped. He didn't know what to do, and hated that. "Don't you have one too?" Jean demanded, cracking a single eye. Marco jumped, but eventually shook his head.

"Um, I don't think so?" He supplied, taking a moment to gauge any pain, finding nothing besides a bit of dry mouth and a slightly queasy stomach. Jean only let out another groan.

"Fucking freckled asshole." He groused, and Marco forced himself to stifle a nervous laugh. "I'm so sure you don't have a hangover. Why would I even think you would? Of course not. You're fucking perfect." He snapped, and Marco wasn't sure whether to be offended, or to take it as a compliment.

It was quiet for a long moment, a moment in which Marco realized he was still tangled up in Jean's arms. But neither made a move to disengage, so the silence continued. Jean finally sighed, shifting to lie on his side instead, drawing Marco closer. The darker teen made a noise of surprise but went without much protest. They settled again, just breathing for a long time.

"Give me a few minutes. I'm a bear without coffee on a good day. This is not a good day." He grumbled, burying his nose in Marco's collarbone. Marco only giggled, letting Jean cuddle as he pleased. There was a little noise of distress from the two-toned boy. "Alright, well, it's not a totally bad day. I mean, it's the weekend, so at least I don't have to haul my ass to school. And Reiner's beds are really comfortable." He began, counting on his fingers even though Marco couldn't see.

"And I woke up with you, so that makes it a pretty good day, actually." He decided. Marco's face flushed, and he was sure Jean could feel the feverish blush spreading across his chest too. What did that mean? Probably not what Marco wanted it to.

They lay still for a while, just basking in warm covers and weekend laziness, and the company. Then there was a light tapping at the door, and someone opened the it without waiting for a reply. It was Reiner, and Marco recognized Bertholdt behind him.

"Hey, you guys are already up?" He asked, looking at both boys who'd lifted their heads to see who was intruding. Marco nodded, smiling shyly. "Great. It's about eleven, so you might want to head out. But grab some breakfast before you go. Bertl made too much." He announced, and the man behind him started to sweat nervously. Or maybe it was from embarrassment? Well, he was sweating, regardless. They took their leave when Jean made some strange, guttural noise in their general direction, shooting Marco a glance that let him know fully well that they did not envy his position.

He laughed after they'd left, fluffing Jean's hair a bit while he could, knowing he'd probably never get another chance. Then he gasped, sitting up too quickly, making himself dizzy. Jean looked at him with surprise and concern as he began wrestling with the sheets, trying to untangle himself and get to the floor.

"Babe? What are you doing?" Jean asked. And Marco was too preoccupied to think much about the residual pet name.

"I need to call my mom! I told her I'd be home last night!" He exclaimed, almost to the edge of the bed. Jean sighed, hooking an arm around his hips and tugging him back.

"I called her last night." Jean said quickly, before Marco could start to struggle. This earned him the attention of the freckled teen. "While you were sleeping in the bathroom. I told her that we left early because it was boring, and you fell asleep watching a movie at my house." He explained.

Marco let it sink in, frowning. He didn't like lying to his mother, which he'd done, by proxy. He couldn't tell her that Jean had lied, though. That wouldn't bode well in the Bodt house. To be honest though, he was kind of glad that Jean had taken care of it. What would he have told his mother? The truth was a little too scary.

He burrowed into the covers, already tired of trying to think through it. He rarely lied to anyone, so just this once wouldn't kill him, right?

Jean hummed approvingly, scooting closer and wrapping himself around the burrito that Marco had become, cackling when Marco started struggling to no avail. They eventually fell still again, both laughing and panting for breath. Jean rolled off when it started to get awkward, and Marco emerged from his cocoon, standing up on the carpeted floor. It felt strange to be in only his boxers, but he tried to make his rushing movements towards his clothes look casual. He was still done pulling his clothes on before Jean was even done buttoning up his pants. In his defense, jeans that skinny were probably hard to get into.

Marco stared, unable to pull his eyes away. He hadn't had the coherency to really look at Jean the night before, and he'd definitely missed out. Jean was, simply put, incredibly attractive. At least by Marco's standards. He was lean, pale, lanky, and bony. Maybe that was bad for some people, but Marco ate it up. He blushed at the nipple and navel piercings. Mostly the nipples though. Jean reached for his shirt, and Marco eyed his back, curiosity piqued.

"Jean?" He called, and the boy made a noise to affirm he was listening. "Does that tattoo mean something?" He wondered. Jean glanced over his shoulder, looking first at Marco, then at the tattoo across his shoulder. He held off on putting his shirt on, beckoning Marco over, gesturing that he could take a closer look.

"I got it about a year ago." Jean began, and Marco listened with rapt attention. "My mom died in a car accident. Well, I say accident…" He trailed, sighing. "Anyway, I got this for her." He offered. Marco frowned, hesitating as he brought his hand up, finally working up the courage to trace his fingers over the inked lines. It was pretty, as far as tattoos went. A hummingbird surrounded by irises. And it struck Marco as a little feminine for Jean's personality. But it also warmed his heart, to know that Jean cared for someone so much that he'd do something like that for them. The tattoo represented his mother, not himself, and Marco could easily tell. Perhaps that was the point.

"Any tats, big guy?" Jean asked cheekily, obviously trying to alleviate some of the darkness that had set in between them. Marco flinched.

"Definitely not!" He replied quickly. Jean only barked a laugh.

"I can't say I'm surprised. Never get one drunk." He cautioned, and Marco raised a brow. Jean only sighed, shaking his head as he lifted one of his feet, using the bed to steady himself. Marco quirked a brow, looking at the foot that Jean had raised. It took him a moment, but he finally found what he was supposed to be looking at, etched into the bottom of the foot. And it looked, suspiciously, like a pony. He snorted.

"Is that…" He began, cut off by Jean who slammed his foot down, face red with embarrassment.

"Yes, it's a fucking My Little Pony tattoo, and I don't want to talk about it. Fruity drinks are not a good idea for me." He spat, Marco only able to snicker as Jean finished dressing. "Couldn't walk straight for weeks..." He grumbled under his breath, only earning more giggles from his companion.

"Well, that's interesting." Marco pointed out. "Kind of a juxtaposition, you know? So many chains, and then ponies on your foot. " He giggled, trying to stifle it and failing utterly. Jean only grumbled, shoving him gently as they collected their things and headed downstairs.

"At least we know you have a pretty high tolerance." Jean suggested, not-so-tactfully changing the subject as he focused on walking down the stairs, Marco hot on his heels. The taller teen quirked a brow at the news.

"I do?" He wondered, voice properly mystified. Jean snorted.

"Do you even know how much you threw back last night?" He demanded. Marco smiled sheepishly, shaking his head. Jean sighed. "Of course not. Freckled perfect asshole." He groused. Marco's eyes widened.

"H-How much did I drink?" He inquired. Jean scoffed, cuffing him over the head.

"More than I should have let you." Was the only reply he got before they'd found the kitchen. It was much tidier, lacking the sea of liquor bottles from the night before. Instead, there was a hearty breakfast, still steaming and looking positively amazing. Bertholdt smiled at them as they entered, gesturing towards the table, which Jean quickly took a seat at. Marco was a bit more hesitant, but eventually sat down as well, taking a plate that was handed to him and taking some of the prepared dishes. He noticed that Jean took his eggs sunny side up, whereas Marco himself preferred them scrambled. Luckily Bertholdt had made both, as well as fried eggs, and one had been cooked into a piece of toast, but that had already been claimed by another plate.

Jean took bacon that was slightly burned, and Marco reached for the pieces that didn't have any black around the edges. Jean buttered his toast, Marco used Jam. Jean took apple slices when Marco reached for the strawberries. And, somehow, Marco was loving the differences. Even such little things set them apart, made Jean almost an alien. That was what Marco found exciting about him though.

Everyone in his family ate like he did. They would have taken scrambled, and strawberries. But Jean wouldn't. And that was interesting. Just like the tattoo. Just like the clothes and his personality. Jean was interesting. Of course, the strange maybe-memory Marco had of them kissing was interesting too, but he was still a little too scared to bring that up.

Bertholdt handed Jean a mug of coffee, then turned to Marco.

"What would you like to drink?" He wondered, offering a friendly, but still nervous, smile. Marco smiled wholeheartedly at the other, hoping to put him at some kind of ease, to no avail.

"Orange juice would be great, if you have it." He replied. Bertholdt nodded, going to the fridge to get the drink for him. Then he sat with the other two, eventually followed by Reiner who sat in front of the plate with the bird in the nest, and a few other people that Marco had a blurry recognition of. And they all ate, and a bit of conversation was traded. (Most of it consisted of grunts and groans, since apparently everyone but Marco and Bertholdt were hungover, but it was conversation nonetheless.)

After breakfast and helping out with cleanup, they said their goodbyes and received Jean's keys from Bertholdt. It was just after noon, and Marco frowned. His mother would have questions, and he knew he didn't want to deal with them. But he didn't really have any other choice. He couldn't just avoid his family for the rest of eternity.

But even scarier than talking to his mother was the idea of talking to Jean. This memory he had was driving him insane, and it seemed to be all he could think about. But what if it was a false memory? What would Jean think? And what if Jean didn't want to acknowledge it? He'd been drunk, and therefore didn't technically have to own up to his actions. He could simply claim he was drunk, and Marco had been close.

"What're you fretting about, babe?" Jean asked, drawing Marco from his thoughts. The boy pursed his lips, forcing his eyes to remain on the scenery passing by his window. There it was again, that pet name. Did it mean something? Or was that simply Jean's way of talking? Marco had met people that simply called everyone by pet names before, and Jean could easily be one of them. Yet it hadn't appeared until the night before, though Marco couldn't pinpoint when exactly. It felt flirty, but was it intentional?

"Um… Nothing, just thinking about last night." He replied, purposefully vague. Jean shot him a quick look.

"Which part of last night?" He prompted. If he had to pull teeth…

Marco frowned, heart speeding up beyond his comfort zone.

"U-Uh… Right before I threw up?" He replied quietly. Jean took a moment to process it, and Marco could practically hear the wheels in his head turning as he went through the night's events. It seemed to click, at last, and Marco winced when Jean pulled into some empty parking lot they were about to pass. He parked the car sloppily, then turned to look at Marco seriously.

"Alright, I'm going to assume I know what you're talking about." He began. Marco got the feeling he did. "I'm sorry for coming onto you like that when you were messed up. That wasn't fair of me." He offered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not usually that much of an asshole. I was pretty messed up too, and you looked really fucking wonderful last night. I know that isn't an excuse or anything, but, uh… Fuck, I'm bad at talking." He growled, biting his lip for a few seconds before turning to Marco again.

"Uh… Do you want to, you know, date?" He asked, pale face already getting red. Marco thought it looked a little silly with all of the metal the boy had in his face, but forced himself to remember what was important.

Jean was, dare he think it, asking him out? His heart lurched as he thought of how very possible it could be that this was all some elaborate prank. But Jean seemed really earnest, if he was being honest. But then there was the question of how Marco should respond. Sure, he liked Jean, but was it really in that way? He'd never thought of liking a boy as more than a friend. He tried to imagine himself on a date with Jean, and pictured some cheesy dinner and movie deal in his head, and it warmed him to the core.

And he'd liked kissing Jean the night before. He'd like to do it again, if he was being truthful. So that, surely, meant that he liked Jean enough to date, right? What other conclusion could he come to? And what was he fretting about in the first place? Agreeing to go out didn't mean he was eternally devoted to someone!

Jean's face seemed to fall with each passing second, so Marco quickly nodded.

"S-Sure!" He finally agreed. Jean initially winced, but then he seemed to realize what Marco had actually said, and his face lit up.

"Really?" He demanded, a grin already taking over his face. Marco nodded shyly with a smile of his own.

"As long as you don't mind my inexperience." He offered, his own cheeks beginning to feel warm as he admitted to his lack of relationship knowledge. Jean only grinned wider.

"You assume everyone has a lot of it." He murmured, and Marco blinked at him owlishly.

"You've never dated?" He wondered, and Jean scoffed.

"Of course I have! But you're not the only person that hasn't." He explained. Marco smiled, looking down at his lap.

"Yeah, I guess not. Everyone has to start somewhere." He agreed. Jean nodded, reaching over and stealing a hand from Marco's lap, eyes tracing patterns in the freckles for a moment before dropping it between them.

"You should have seen me on my first date. It was her first too, and we had no idea what we were doing." Jean recounted, shuddering at the thought. "Let's just say that that was an awkward breakup. But we'll go at your pace. If it feels too fast, just let me know, and I'll slow down, okay? You're going to have to teach me your boundaries, but I'll do my best to learn them." He promised, and Marco smiled.

"Well, the same goes for you. If I'm being too slow or something, tell me. I can be a little dense sometimes." He said sheepishly, glancing down at their linked hands. Jean was silent, and Marco, out of curiosity, looked up to see if something was amiss. He jumped as he felt lips against his, but they were gone as quickly as they'd come, too fast for him to even register the little metal studs poking out from under Jean's bottom lip against his skin. He couldn't speak.

Jean grinned, letting go of his hand to properly devote himself to driving again, pulling back onto the road and heading for Marco's house. The freckled teen lost himself in daydreams about all of the possible dates he and Jean could go on, of all the ways he could earn different kinds of kisses, or hugs, or hand-holding. Then he thought of something.

"Jean, do you still want me to tutor you?" He wondered. Jean spared him a glance.

"Uh, yeah? I really do need the help. That wasn't just a ruse to get you to date me." He replied, and Marco giggled, a bit nervous. "Well, not entirely." He added.

"Huh?" Marco looked to Jean for answers, seeing the embarrassment on the teen's face. Jean was quiet for a while.

"…Well… It's not like I planned it or anything. I really had no intention of going to class or sitting next to you or anything. It just kind of happened. But I knew who you were when I sat next to you." He offered. Marco's eyes widened.

"You knew me already?" He wondered. Jean laughed.

"You're a pretty admirable student, you know? You get really high marks, and are on honor rolls and stuff. But I knew you because I'd seen you watching me." He offered. Marco flushed, not realizing someone had noticed at all. And Jean himself? He wanted to hide in a hole for a few months.

"You'd always stare anytime I passed. I mean, a lot of people did, but you looked at me differently than anyone else. I never really felt like you were scared of me, or like you thought I was cool. You just seemed interested." He offered, shrugging. Marco flushed, looking out the window. Jean could be pretty observant, apparently.

"I was pretty surprised you let me cheat." He admitted, and Marco winced. "But I'm glad you did. My grade aside, it gave me an excuse to talk to you." He explained. The freckled teen sighed, trying to push that to the back of his mind. He was still in denial that he'd helped someone cheat, even if it was Jean.

"You were sassy." Jean recalled, smirking. Marco turned to him quickly, brows furrowed as he tried to remember. "You said something like 'If you came to class, you'd know about tests," I think." He reminded, laughing. "I never expected that from you. You looked kind of… Timid. But that made me curious about you too."

Marco smiled. Sassy wasn't a word he was described with often, but if it's what got Jean to agree to tutoring, then so be it.

"And then you started tutoring me, and you're fucking brilliant, Bodt. Your family is awesome too." He announced, and Marco flushed.

"Seriously? I was so worried they'd scared you off!" Marco groaned. Jean shook his head.

"No, I adore them." He assured him, voice low and conspiratorial for a moment. Then he went sober again. "They're… Well, like I said, my mom's gone. And my dad… We uh… We don't get along so well. I know, stereotypical punk upbringing, right? He doesn't hit me or anything, we just don't have the same views, and it causes some issues between us. We end up yelling at each other most nights, since neither of us will back off, and I've run off a few times before. I usually end up over at Reiner's place." He explained. "So, anyway, your family is amazing compared to that." He concluded.

Marco frowned, taking in the new information and processing all it meant. It meant a lot. He could only guess what Jean and his father argued about, but it wasn't something he was going to ask about. Jean had a right to his privacy. If he wanted to talk about it, Marco would listen. But if not, then Marco wasn't going to push it.

"You're always welcome at our house, Jean." Marco announced softly, hesitantly leaning over and pecking the teen on the cheek. He liked how fast Jean's face went entirely red, even his ears.

"T-Thanks." Was the reply, but that was plenty for Marco. "Uh… Mind if I hang out for a bit longer today, then?" He asked, hope in his voice. Marco realized that they'd just pulled along the curb in front of his house. He smiled warmly, nodding.

"Of course not! Come on!" He encouraged, opening his door and getting out, waiting for Jean to kill the engine and join him, stealing his hand as they walked up the steps to the front door. He could feel Jean's hesitance at this, and he wondered why. Jean was looking straight at his house, eyes darting to each window, as if looking for someone. And Marco decided that he knew one of the things that Jean and his father didn't agree on.

He took the hand despite Jean's initial avoidance, holding it firmly in his, even after he'd let himself in. And he continued to hold it until his mother found them in the entryway trying to get their shoes off without letting go of each other. Jean pulled his hand away abruptly, eyes wide. But Mrs. Bodt paid it no mind, wrapping first Marco, then Jean in a hug, and shooing the boys upstairs with a knowing look. And he loved his mother just a little bit more that day, and he thought Jean probably did too.

A/N: So this is a more typical wait for one of my chapters. It can be longer or shorter, depending on how productive I'm being at the time. But my rule for this story is a little different. I'm actually working on finishing chapter 9 as I post this, but I'm not letting myself post these chapters until I update another one of my stories. So I updated Violet Eyes today, meaning I got to post chapter three of this. Once I get an update out for What Lies Beyond the Walls, I can post chapter four.

But still, I'd say 2 and a half to three weeks is the most you'll ever wait. I'm kind of busy with Finals, but after I finish at school, I'll have a lot more free time to write, so these should come out a bit faster. This story just warms my heart a lot, so I can't put it down. Even when I'm in class I'm thinking about writing another chapter.

I'm just going to warn you guys, this is going to be the mushiest, teenageriest, gooiest shit I've written in a long time. Like, cuddle puddles and tickle wars and a general state of homos being happy and in love and canoodling. So like, don't take this too seriously. Yeah, Jean has a few family issues, but that isn't the focus of the story. So if you're expecting a sudden character death or something, you're looking in all the wrong places.

That said, I think we all need a break from the sad JeanMarco stuff. A good round of Punk!Jean being a total love bucket is something everyone needs, in my opinion. So if you're still up for it, I'll see you next time! As always, feedback is always appreciated!

KuroRiya

九六りや


	4. Chapter 4

Dating Jean was… Different.

Granted, Marco didn't really have anything to compare it to, so that probably wasn't a fair observation. But he'd never experienced anything close to the ensuing weeks he spent with Jean.

At first, it was mostly about figuring out boundaries and learning more about each other. After all, they really didn't know each other very well. A few days of tutoring and one party weren't really enough to say that they were close.

The first night that Jean stayed over was spent almost entirely on talking about themselves. Silly things, and not-so-silly things.

"Alright, then what's _your _favorite color?" Jean demanded, trying to get Marco to shut up. He was laughing after learning his new boyfriend had a soft spot for pink. After taking a moment to calm himself down, Marco replied easily.

"My favorite is blue. But… Uh, like, the darker blues. Royal blues. Aesthetically speaking, I like neutrals, earthy tones." He explained. Jean quirked a brow.

"Aesthetically speaking?" He scoffed, knocking the bigger boy over so that he fell down on his bed where they were currently having their powwow.

"Oh hush. My mom is an interior designer, of course I think about these things!" Marco groused, nudging the other in the ribs, grin in place. Jean returned the expression, flopping down next to his boyfriend and pecking his cheek before settling in.

Marco felt a blush raise to his cheeks, grin faltering in surprise, but growing as his mind registered the affection. He liked it a lot when Jean kissed him. More and more every time it happened, or so it seemed. And he was more than happy fill the spaces between Jean's fingers with his own.

"Okay, um… How about… Shit, it's hard to think of questions. Uh… What do you want to do? You know, like, for a career or whatever." Jean wondered, squeezing the long fingers between his. Marco bit his lip, the fingers of his free hand drumming against the mattress.

"I've been thinking about pediatrics, but I'm not one hundred percent sure. It's nice in theory, and I do like kids, but it's a lot of work, and I don't know if it's what I want to spend my life doing. But my family could use the money." He admitted. "We have so many mouths to feed…"

It was something that had, honestly, been on his mind a lot recently. After high school, real life was supposed to begin. That meant a job, that meant college. That meant bills, and apartments, and roommates, and hard times. It meant thinking about not only his own future, but that of the ones he loved. Maybe it wasn't fair for him to think of it as his responsibility, but he was truly worried about his family getting by. They'd never been particularly wealthy, and he could only imagine what would happen if one of his parents were to lose their jobs. He wished he could provide some kind of security.

Jean was quiet for a while, both of them just staring up at the ceiling, as if it might give them an idea for how to proceed.

"Hey," he finally began. Marco turned to look at him. "I know that everyone is always asking you about what you want to do when you grow up, and they expect you to have answers. But it's okay to not have everything figured out. I have no clue what I want to do with myself, but I'll probably figure it out sooner or later." He said, shrugging.

"You're still young, believe it or not. It feels like everything is important right now, but a few years down the road, I might stop bleaching half of my hair, and you might be a doctor, or you might be running a pet store in Detroit. Maybe I'll bleach half of my hair till I die. Who knows. But we have time to figure all of that out. Just take it one day at a time." He elaborated.

Marco stared in awe for a moment. At first it was simply because Jean had said so much at once, but then the contents of his words registered. Sure, he'd seen plenty of movies that said as much. Even other people had said the same thing; But hearing it from someone like Jean made it so much more important, so much more real. He couldn't help but smile, turning over on his side and nuzzling into the other boy's shoulder. Jean looked down at him, face red.

"Baby, what are you doing?" He wondered, looking away with embarrassment. Marco only smiled wider, craning his neck to kiss the very corner of Jean's lips.

"Thank you. I needed to hear that." He admitted. Jean huffed, turning over as well so he could wrap his arms around the other boy.

"Whatever. Just don't, you know, join the mafia or something, and I'm sure you'll be fine." He mumbled, making Marco laugh.

"I don't think you need to worry about me joining the mafia." He giggled.

"You _are_ Italian." Jean pointed out, kissing the crown of his head. Marco couldn't help but roll his eyes, looking up at the other boy.

"It's not nice to stereotype." He chided, earning a scoff.

"Says the guy that assumed I'd be an asshole just because I wear ripped jeans and spiked bracelets." Jean retorted.

"Oh, hush. You didn't exactly exude friendliness, I'll have you know. I thought you'd kill me if I didn't let you cheat!" Marco recalled.

"Uh, no. I'd probably have just sweated a lot and cried a little." Jean offered. Marco snorted, unable to hold back his laughter with that image in his head.

"I think you'd be cute when you're nervous!" He announced, making Jean groan.

"I'm not cute! I'm manly as hell!" He argued, scowling. That only made Marco's grin go coy.

"Oh, excuse me manly Mr. Kirstein." He offered sarcastically, holding out his vowels a little. "Well, I have to admit, your name sounds pretty manly."

"Damn right it does!" Jean agreed happily.

"The last name anyway. Jean is debatable." Marco added, smiling brightly, as if he hadn't just totally stomped on Jean's glee.

"No man, it's totally manly. As long as you pronounce it right, anyway." He grumbled. Marco opened his mouth, but Jean cut him off. "Don't you dare say 'Gene' I will murder you right here and now." He warned. Marco promptly shut his mouth, trying to fight down his snickering.

"Don't think I won't do it just cause you're cute." Jean threatened, staring the other boy down. Marco only smiled, stealing a quick little kiss before snuggling up, tangling their legs together. He'd always thought his legs were too long and awkward for his own good, but they fit perfectly with Jean's, so maybe he'd learn to appreciate them, with time.

They cuddled for a while, until Mrs. Bodt called them down for supper. She eyed them as they came down, her stare hard enough that they both started to believe that she knew every single thing that had happened, and would someday happen, in that room. Apparently she deemed their previous activities acceptable though, for she finally leveled them with a smile and ushered them into their seats.

In the time that they'd been dating, which was just over a week, Jean had only missed dinner with the family twice. He'd started coming home with Marco, even going as far as to wait till he got out of any club activities so that they could go together. While Marco appreciated the ride, he was starting to worry that Jean might get in trouble with his father. After all, wasn't he worried?

Then again, Jean had mentioned not being on great terms with his father.

But Marco really had no idea what exactly the situation was. And now that it was on his mind, it was bothering him. He decided that, after dinner, he'd ask Jean about it. The other boy usually stayed for a couple of hours after eating anyway.

For the time being, he'd just enjoy the food and company. He was thankful that his family had taken to Jean so well. Marco had never dated anyone before, and most certainly not a boy. While his mother had shown immediate acceptance that first day when they'd come in together, he had been a bit worried about the rest of his family.

They hadn't really made an official announcement of their relationship status, but it was pretty obvious in the way that they acted around each other, and how frequently Jean visited. Marco wondered when they started catching on, but no one said anything. No one mentioned that Jean came over every day, and ate dinner with them, and disappeared up to Marco's room for several hours before reluctantly heading back to his own home.

No, his family just smiled, passed him a second helping of food, and hugged him when he left. Marco adored the way that Jean was starting to awkwardly hug them back. He adored the way that Jean was slowly becoming more open with his family, and his affection. He was relieved and glad that he could provide a place that Jean could feel comfortable in.

After dinner and a bit of ice cream, they climbed the stairs back up to Marco's room, getting cozy on the bed again. Marco let the good feelings from dinner linger for as long as he could stand, but eventually his curiosity won out.

"Um, Jean?" He prompted quietly. The boy squeezed his fingers to let him know he was listening.

"I was just wondering… Well, you know… You know my family pretty well at this point. I was just wondering if you'd tell me about yours." He asked, closing his eyes. Maybe he was scared of rebuke, or maybe he was scared of what he might hear. But Jean didn't get angry, he only sighed.

He didn't respond for a long time, and Marco was just about to apologize for bringing it up at all, when finally Jean cleared his throat.

"I… It's not something I really like to talk about, sweetheart. And there's honestly not much to say. But if you want to know, then that's only fair." He decided, free hand coming up to scratch at his head for a moment.

"Like I said, my mom died. It's just me and the old man now. He's not a great guy, by any standards. He's not an alcoholic, but he's as mean as one. He likes to fight with me about pretty much everything. Real nitpicky, you know? If my shoes aren't in a straight line, it's a fight. If I accidentally moved the couch out of place just a bit and the dent in the carpet shows, that's a fight." He explained, scrubbing his hand down his face.

"Mom used to tell him to back off, but now that she's gone… Well, it's just the two of us, and we go at it almost constantly. I'm old enough that I don't just sit back and take his shit, and that pisses him off worse than whatever I did. I guess that his obsession with perfection is what made the whole idea of rebellion so attractive to me. He hates it. I can't tell you how many times he's yelled at me for my hair, or my clothes, or something I've said. I don't share his opinions either, and that's something he can't stand. He's against pretty much everything you'd expect; Hates gay people, anyone who isn't white, women in power. You know, he's got oppression down to a T. And I'm, like, the opposite. I guess that's pretty obvious." He laughed, squeezing Marco's fingers again. .

"We used to get in shouting matches over it, and we actually threw a few punches once, but I'm over it at this point. It doesn't hurt my feelings like it used to. I realized that I can't change what he thinks, but he can't change me either. If that's how he wants to live, then so be it. I'll be out of that house as soon as next year, if I can help it. And if it gets to be too much, then I leave." He said simply.

"And I think, sometimes, he's finally starting to get it. Some days he's better. We can talk like normal people, and he might even smile at me or something. But most days he's worse. That's why I always come over here. Chances are he's raging up a storm at home, just waiting for me to get there so he can scream at me about how I'm never there." He admitted with a sigh of exasperation, pulling Marco's hand up to rest on his chest.

"I understand that he's had a tough time. He and I both loved mom a lot. He was driving when they got in the accident. There were some assholes fucking with them, trying to run them off the road. You can imagine my old man, I'm sure. As high-strung as he is, he was shouting and cursing at them the whole time instead of focusing on driving safely. They hit a sharp corner wrong, and ended up flipping the car. Mom died right before it caught on fire, thank god."

Marco swallowed thickly, turning over on his side. He rested one hand, still twined with Jean's, on the mattress between them. The other came to rest on the other boy's stomach. Jean took a moment to collect himself, breathing a little shakily. But he didn't cry.

"He-He uh… Blames himself, I'm sure. That's why I try not to get too mad at him, even when I know he's in the wrong. That's why I haven't left yet. When I do move out, he's going to be alone. Even though all he does is yell at me, at least I'm there, you know? I figure I can take it till I turn eighteen. Then he can get a cat or something." He mused, his free arm flopping over his face, covering his eyes.

Marco didn't say anything, only scooting closer and wrapping himself around Jean. He got a laugh as a reward.

"What are you doing, you dork?" Jean asked, hugging him closer regardless. Marco only hummed, kissing the slender neck before him.

"Giving you a koala hug. I thought you could use one." He replied. Jean laughed again, ruffling the dark hair on Marco's head and kissing his forehead.

"You're seriously a nerd." Was his response. But he didn't let go or push him away. So they just lay like that for a few minutes, until Marco thought enough time had passed to change the subject.

"Just remember, Jean; You can always come here. Anytime." He promised.

"Anytime?" Jean asked, as if for clarification.

"Anytime." Marco repeated, looking up into pretty amber eyes.

Jean had to take a moment to appreciate this freckled boy that had gone from a stranger to the most precious person in his life in a matter of days. When had this adoration begun? When had he started to love every dark lash framing those big brown eyes, every freckle upon sun kissed cheeks, every little curling of lips and every crinkling of his nose? Maybe he'd never pinpoint the exact moment, but he sure knew what feeling was starting to swell in his heart.

But saying anything could be dangerous. He knew that from experience. So he kept it to himself, at least for the time being. He settled for a shy kiss and another half hour of cuddling.

When it was time for him to head home, it was with much reluctance that he began collecting his things. Marco watched from his perch on the bed with a frown on his usually smiling lips. He hated to see Jean go too, especially now that he knew what he was going home to. And then it dawned on him.

"Um, Jean?" He prompted, getting the other teen's attention.

"Yeah, babe?"

"Well… Why don't you stay over?" He wondered, smiling in what he hoped was an inviting fashion. "It's a Friday anyway, so mom won't care." Jean turned to look at him from where he'd been shoving his textbooks into a backpack Marco had given him after he decided to take school seriously. He was quiet for a while, eyes wide. Then he grinned.

"You're a saint, sweetheart." He announced, taking a running leap and tackling Marco down onto the bed. The one in question giggled, doing his best to intercept the attack, but they still ended up sprawled against the bed, limbs tangled messily. "A genius saint." He breathed, kissing Marco who was pinned beneath him.

After they managed to extract themselves from not only the mattress, but each other, they headed down to give Mrs. Bodt the heads up. They earned a warning glance, but she agreed, promising to make extra breakfast for the guest in the morning. And she gave them rights to the living room for the night, so they decided to have a movie marathon.

They argued for a moment about whether popcorn or nachos were the appropriate movie food, eventually agreeing that they should just make both. Why not? They were growing teenage boys with endless stomachs, so what harm would it do?

Of course, about twenty minutes into their first movie, Marco's siblings decided to crash the party. It was apparently just too inviting for them to ignore, so instead of an impromptu date full of cuddling on the couch and watching sappy movies while making themselves sick on popcorn and nachos, they found themselves smushed together between five of Marco's brothers and sisters, all fighting over which movie to watch next, and who had eaten the last of the popcorn, and who got to sit on the couch next.

Marco thanked the heavens when his mother finally hustled his younger siblings upstairs after the third movie, claiming they were still young enough to have a midnight bedtime during the weekend. She threw the boys a knowing glance and wished them a good night.

Unfortunately, the young 'uns had finished off all of the popcorn. And the chips. And the pizza rolls. So they couldn't eat themselves sick, unless they planned on eating canned tuna or dog food. But they could still cuddle and watch sappy movies until they passed out. Thank god for Netflix and its endless supply of chick flicks.

Every time Marco would choose one, Jean would complain until about ten minutes in, and then he was entirely silent for the rest of the movie, watching intently. Marco thought it was cute, the way he'd almost cry when things went awry, and the way he suppressed a whoop at the end when everything worked out. Who would have thought that resident punk Jean Kirstein would like romantic comedies? Then again, who would have thought that resident punk Jean Kirstein would have a My Little Pony tattoo on the bottom of his foot? Clearly there was still a lot to learn about the boy Marco was dating.

About halfway through their seventh movie, Marco finally started to doze off, fighting to keep his eyes open, because it was starting to look like Jean was really going to cry. They were lying on the couch, Jean practically on top of Marco, head against his chest. It was the saddest part of the movie, and Marco was ready for it, watching his boyfriend's eyes carefully. But just as he thought a tear was going to slip out from Jean's closed eyes, he heard a soft snore.

With a scoff, he turned the movie off, contorting his arm a little to turn the lamp off and grab the blanket draped over the back of the couch. It took some doing, but he got it spread out over the two of them, and snuggled in for the night. He could tell his neck would be hurting in the morning, and probably his back too, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. This way, he got to feel Jean breathing against him, got to feel his heartbeat which sped up a bit on occasion as he began dreaming.

And he'd get to wake up in the morning to his face, probably grumpy, and know that he was safe, and that he wasn't spending the night screaming or being screamed at. He'd know he wasn't sleeping outside or knocking at Reiner's door at three in the morning. Because he was here, on the couch, dreaming about something that made his heart race and his lips pull up in an unconscious smile. And that was enough to let him rest easy, neck ache be damned.

A/N: And that's chapter four! I just wanted to say thank you for all of the feedback thus far. You guys have been great, and I really appreciate it! If you like my writing, you might check out my EreMin story as well. I will warn you, it's not happy like this one. It involves some character death, and a lot of violence. But you know, if you need a break from all this fluff…

It has JeanMarco as a side pairing, but it is EreMin centric. And there's still fluff, because I'm a total sucker for the stuff. Just, you know, fluff and human sacrifice instead of fluff and dorky boyfriends. If you have the stomach for it, the story's called What Lies Beyond the Walls.

Since I'm so in love with this story, I figure I might as well claim a tag for it! I'll end up drawing for it, and I've already received a bit of fanart from my friend, so I'll post that sometime in the next couple of days. Anyway, I'll use the tag "fic tmttr" on tumblr. So if you have anything you want to post about this story, please tag it with that. I'm also open to questions and comments and friendship. My username is the same on tumblr for anyone that doesn't know~! And I'll post any random sidenotes/art/updates under that tag.

Alright, that's it for now, I think. Thanks, as always, for reading, and if you have time to leave a comment or review, please do! With love~!

KuroRiya

九六りや


	5. Chapter 5

It didn't take long for word to get around school. Jean, as it would turn out, was very open about the whole thing, telling anyone who asked why he was holding Marco's hand, flat out, that they were dating. Marco was, honestly, surprised. He had sort of expected Jean to want to keep it hush hush. But he wasn't displeased. He was proud to have somehow caught the attention of infamous punk Jean Kirstein. After all, the boy was quite a catch, to say the least. According to the girls, badboy was a hot look. Ironically, Jean was one of the sweetest people he knew.

One day Marco got to his locker to find that it had been broken into. But, instead of finding something missing or something terrible waiting, or even a rude letter, he found a bouquet of daffodils and a note with naught but a little heart and Jean's name on it. Another day he found a box of chocolates had been slipped into his bag, which he discovered in the middle of lunch.

But no one could be convinced that it was really Jean that did these things. Even Armin was obviously doubting him. And, as much as he wished he could, Marco couldn't really get angry; Until recently, he'd been under the same impression that Jean was a rebellious asshole. And he _was_ rebellious, sure, but he was anything but an asshole.

Their first actual date was an adventure Marco used to prove that point.

Jean insisted that they go out somewhere together, since they'd sort of skipped the formality by deciding to date after only a party together. In his opinion, that didn't count as a proper date, and he was determined to treat Marco to the experience. He shoved an embarrassed Marco into his car and drove them out to his favorite restaurant, hushing Marco as he worried about how expensive everything was. The first nicety of the night was Jean promising to pay for everything and not taking no for an answer.

Initially, Marco tried to order something inexpensive, but ended up sharing Jean's food at the other's insistence. Even though Marco promised that a salad was enough, Jean wasn't having any of it, and he even went as far as to order dessert. Marco never ordered a dessert at a restaurant. The cheesecake was delicious, but he felt bad about the bill that he managed to steal a peek at.

It seemed that Jean sensed Marco's discomfort with this high class treatment, as he opted to forgo his plans of taking him to a movie as well, taking them instead to the local park. He pulled into a spot, then opened Marco's door for him, taking his hand and leading him out of the car, kissing the back of his hand and wiggling his brows suggestively. That was enough to get Marco laughing at last, and he happily followed the other to the main trail.

Marco felt more in his element as they walked along the little paths, hands firmly connected between them and forms glowing in the waning sunlight. Living where they did, they received more than a few looks as they passed other people. Some were children lingering in their play, others were couples doing the same thing they were. Marco wished he could live somewhere else, somewhere a bit more accepting. The problem with the area was that the younger generation was, generally, rather accepting. But the older generation was about as discriminating as was possible. Homophobic, racist, anti-feminist… The whole nine yards.

Thankfully, they were almost done. Just one more year, and they could get away, if they wanted to. One more year and they wouldn't have to worry about getting a detention for kissing goodbye between classes, one more year and they wouldn't have to pass another couple making out as they were led to the principal to explain themselves. One more year and they wouldn't have to worry about being transferred to another class in the middle of the semester without an explanation, knowing it was because a teacher refused to work with them.

But it was reassuring that Jean would flip anyone that leered their way the bird, and that he'd sneer if they dared utter a homophobic slur. Marco had actually had to physically hold Jean back from attacking one of the P.E. teachers on one such occasion.

And, even though he was angry, Jean always came back down and pressed a kiss to Marco's cheek, or his nose, or his mouth, as if to promise that they'd always be together, no matter what anyone said. And Marco was starting to believe that it could be true, and that it would be the best possible outcome. His thoughts of a possible future were pretty nice ones, he had to admit.

Jean walked him around for a bit, till they came to the lake. Apparently that was the destination, as he plopped down under a tree, pulling Marco down to sit next to him. After getting situated, he pulled the brunette's head over to rest on his shoulder, lacing their fingers as they basked in the warm breeze coming off the shimmering water. They were quiet for a few minutes, then Jean sighed.

"Baby?" He prompted, waiting till he had Marco's attention. "Let me spoil you sometimes." He commanded, frowning. Marco opened his mouth to protest, but Jean cut him off.

"I know you aren't used to it, and I get that. But I do it because I want to, and I want to give you the world. Seeing you happy makes me happy, and I'd pay anything to see that." He explained. Marco shook his head.

"But you don't need to! Just spending time with you is enough for me." He scolded. Jean rolled his eyes.

"I know, I'm not stupid. But that doesn't keep me from wanting to do something nice for you on occasion. I'm just asking you to humor me, alright?" He asked. Marco sighed but nodded, snuggling back into the other boy's side.

"Alright, alright. But you have to kiss me lots to make up for it." He retorted, looking up with a pout. Jean smiled, doing just that. Marco finally let a smile break across his lips too, getting comfortable. Unfortunately, his shifting sent him lurching forward, and they bumped noses, Jean coming away with a hiss.

"Fuck, babe, ow." He whined, tenderly pressing at the piercing that went through the bridge of his nose. Marco frowned, pressing his lips to Jean's cheek.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" He promised, worry lacing his tone.

After a bit of grumbling, Jean waved him off, kissing him one more time before pulling him closer, as close as he could get without sitting in the other boy's lap.

"If you got a piercing, you'd understand." He said matter-of-factually. Marco grimaced.

"No thank you!" He replied quickly, sticking his tongue out. "I'd rather not have holes all over my body." He announced. Jean pouted.

"Aww, you don't like them?" He asked, all mock concern and jutting bottom lip. It looked a little funny with the piercings.

"Quit trying to pout with those… Uh… Lip piercings! Super not cute!" Marco laughed. Jean quirked a brow.

"You don't know what they're called, do you?" He questioned, and Marco shrugged, trying not to look guilty. Jean shook his head. "I'm disappointed." He announced, sighing dramatically.

After a moment, he pointed to the piercing in question.

"When they're under the lip like this, they're snake bites." He explained. "If they're in the middle, right here," he pointed to show Marco the correct position. "Then they're dolphin bites. Up top is angle bites, and there are canine bites, and shark bites, and pretty much everything you can think of. But I like them here." He explained. Marco nodded.

"I think they suit you." He agreed, getting up for a moment to sit on Jean's other side, taking the other hand and sighing as some of the pressure was taken off of his back. Jean shifted a bit too, doing his best to accommodate the new arrangement. "But I think the tongue is my favorite." He finally admitted.

"Oh?" Jean prompted, looking over at him coyly. Marco blushed, but nodded.

"Uh-huh. It definitely makes for interesting kisses." He offered. Jean grinned, taking that as his cue to press the other teen against the tree and slot their lips together, not hesitating to add his tongue into the mix, coaxing Marco's into playing too. They didn't pull apart until they were both seeing stars and had to sit back and just breathe for a few seconds.

"…Yup." Marco said, panting. "That one's definitely my favorite."

Jean laughed, knocking their heads together and holding that position, filling the spaces between Marco's fingers with his own.

They stayed under the tree until Marco was dozing off, but Jean gently shook him back into consciousness after a while. It took him a moment to register that he'd fallen asleep, and he looked around. The sun was out of view, but hadn't been down long. There was still a bit of bluish grey light filtering in through the clouds, and Marco was able to see everything with just enough detail to call it dusk.

Jean got up, hefting Marco to his feet as well. The taller teen quirked a brow as Jean began climbing the tree they'd been under, gesturing for Marco to follow. Despite his fear of heights, he did, carefully picking which limbs he'd trust with his weight. After a bit of shaking and regret, he managed to get to the same branch Jean had planted himself on, and carefully sat next to him, holding on to his boyfriend's arm to steady himself.

After a few seconds of trying to get comfortable despite the nervous butterflies fluttering about his stomach anytime he looked down or thought about where he was, he looked over at Jean.

"So, why'd we climb a tree in the park?" He wondered. Jean turned to him, rolling his eyes, the bright amber color visible even in the scant light.

"Why don't you look?" He wondered, pointing ahead of them, towards the lake. His bracelets clinked together with the motion, and Marco's eyes followed the sound.

He nearly gasped, eyes going wide as he took in the sight. There were thousands of fireflies flitting around the water, glowing in blinking patterns between blades of tall grass. He watched them dance across the surface, transfixed for a moment.

"I thought you might like to see them." Jean offered quietly. Marco tore his eyes away, giving his boyfriend a blinding smile.

"How do you already know me so well?" He wondered, cautiously removing one of his hands from where he'd been tightly clenching the branch and finding Jean's, lacing their fingers. Jean offered him a grin, leaning over for a kiss.

"You and I were just meant to be." He replied. Marco was about to swoon at how sweet that was, but then realized that that sounded a little familiar, especially with the way Jean said it, sort of sing-songy.

"…Did you seriously just quote Frozen?" He demanded, quirking a brow. Jean's eyes widened.

"Wha-No! Er… I didn't know you'd seen it…" He mumbled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. Marco barked a laugh, nudging the other teen.

"Well, I did. With my little sisters. You could have at least used a Kristoff line instead of Hans." He admonished. Jean sighed and shrugged, and Marco opted to let it go for the time being.

They watched the fireflies for a few minutes, till it started to get too dark for them to safely attempt to maneuver their way down a tree, so they headed down with what little light they had left, Jean having to catch Marco when his knees buckled after jumping off of the last branch.

Marco laughed, hugging Jean instead of standing up properly. The other teen made a noise of protest, but accepted the affection nonetheless. When Marco pulled away, Jean gave him a coy grin.

"I could kiss you right now." He said.

Marco furrowed his brows. Jean had never asked permission before, and he should know by now that he didn't need it…

"I could. I mean, I'd like to." He continued. "May I? We me? I mean may we?"

Realization dawned on Marco's face, and he had never rolled his eyes so hard.

"Wait, what?" Jean finished, looking properly nervous. Marco finally graced him with a smile, leaning in for a kiss.

"We may." He breathed. Jean frowned though.

"Hey, no, you're supposed to kiss me on the cheek." He griped, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You are such a loser Jean, oh my gosh. And you tried to deny that you'd seen it?" Marco quipped, playfully shoving the other in the shoulder. "I went with my sisters. What's your excuse?" He wondered. Jean's face went red, and he began walking away.

"None of your business, Freckles." He called. Marco laughed, chasing after him.

"Come on, spill!" He giggled, catching up and capturing the shorter male's arm. Jean was practically glowing red, but still he let his boyfriend twine their fingers.

"Jesus! I'm just a hardcore Disney fan, alright?" He huffed. "I see all of their shit." He added.

Marco grinned, looking over at him smugly.

"You went by yourself, didn't you?" He asked, but it wasn't really much of a question.

"NO!" Jean cried, looking incredibly offended. "Only losers go to movies by themselves!" He added. Marco smirked, looking at him pointedly. "No way! I totally went with… With my girlfriend! My totally super-hot girlfriend who was twenty times more attractive than anyone else except you because you're special but she was still pretty hot for a chick, with like, boobs and stuff, and-" He rambled, but Marco cut him off, smiling and kissing his cheek.

"Okay, big guy." He laughed, voice still playfully condescending. "I'm sure your fake girlfriend was super-hot, with her boobs and stuff. Are you sure you're not 100% gay, because wow… Boobs and stuff…" He giggled. Jean only sighed, slowing his pace so they could walk back comfortably. "I don't mind. I like Disney too. Mulan is my favorite." He offered, since it seemed Jean had no retorts. Jean scoffed.

"Mulan is everyone's favorite." He pointed out.

They proceeded to get into a heated debate about which Disney Princess was the best. Jean ended up winning that argument by threatening not to drive Marco home if he didn't agree that Kida was the best. They decided it was time to have a Disney marathon, and that a sleepover was in order.

When they got to Marco's house, they received a scolding from Mrs. Bodt. Apparently they were being too loud. It wasn't their fault that they'd accidentally fallen over in the doorway and knocked a bowl of potpourri all over the floor. It also wasn't their fault that everyone else in the house went to bed at a normal hour. Sleep is for the weak.

After getting the dried petals all picked up, they scurried into the living room, and Marco got to work setting up the dvd player, pointing Jean to the family movie collection.

By the time he'd gotten the equipment up and running, Jean had picked their first movie of the night. Tarzan was apparently first on the list. Well, at least it wasn't a Princess movie. That's what Marco had to remind himself as he put it in, heading into the kitchen and trying to make popcorn quietly. That went about as well as one might expect.

While he was in the kitchen, Jean made himself busy with taking off his bracelets, and he stripped off his outermost layers of clothes, keeping on only what he needed to remain decent. When Marco returned, he followed suit, handing Jean the bowl so he could remove the excess clothing. Once they were both adequately in mild states of undress and sporting rumpled hair, he plopped down on the couch, remote in hand.

With a bowl of food between them and feet busy playing socked footsie, Marco hit play on the remote and got cozy, knowing he was in for a hell of a night.

They were about halfway through Brother Bear, the fourth movie, when Jean pulled on Marco's earlobe, effectively getting his attention.

"Babe?" He began. Marco shifted to better face him. Any time Jean started with 'Babe?' it meant Marco was in for a long conversation.

"Yeah?" He prompted, muting the movie.

"Uh… Well, you know, the school year's almost over." He pointed out. Marco quirked a brow, nodding.

"Um, sure, if four months is almost the end of the school year. Do we need to start studying for finals soon?" He inquired, frowning. Jean groaned.

"That's not even remotely what I'm getting at." He complained.

Marco rolled his eyes, but waited for Jean to continue instead of offering his own conversation.

"I mean… Have you thought about, you know… Prom?" Jean asked, voice getting quieter as he spoke.

Oh, right. That was a thing. Marco had nearly forgotten about the infamous rite of passage. Prom.

"Er… Not really, no." He admitted. It was the truth. Prom hadn't crossed his mind in months. The only reason he ever thought of it was if his friends brought it up, which was pretty rare. Not many of his friends seemed very excited about it, to be honest.

"Oh." Jean breathed, looking, dare Marco say it, disappointed? The freckled boy blinked.

"Um… Why?" He wondered, nudging Jean with his foot. Jean's face went red, and he seemed to sink into his little blanket cape, shoulders going up to hide as much of his face in plush as he could manage.

"I just… I was just wondering if… You know… You wanted to go?" He finally managed, looking up at Marco. "With, uh, me?" He added, for clarification.

It took a few seconds for Marco's mind to put that together, but a grin lit up his face when it did. He promptly launched himself across the couch, landing on Jean who groaned, the wind knocked right out of him.

He never said yes, but Jean took the flurry of kisses to be equivalent, laughing and meeting the kisses until he couldn't breathe. Then they settled down, cuddling up together and returning their attention to the movie. Too lazy to reach for the remote, they ended up watching it on mute, providing their own voices until Marco fell asleep, snoring softly with his nose pressed into Jean's neck.

The younger teen did a bit of shifting, tugging the blanket out from underneath his body with no small amount of effort. Once it had been freed, he pulled it over the two of them, repositioning Marco a bit so that he wasn't totally being crushed under the bigger boy's weight.

Marco stirred a bit, mumbling sleepily and rolling over, laying on his side next to Jean instead of on top of him. That ended up being better, and Jean readjusted the blanket, slotting his legs between Marco's and snuggling up, tucking the other's head under his chin, almost sneezing when soft black locks tickled at his nose.

It made him smile, and he sighed happily, taking a moment to breathe in the lingering smell of Marco's shampoo. It smelled a bit sharp, and he could tell it was probably some cheap off-brand. And, as he thought about it, he remembered that there was only one set of soaps in the bathroom. So everyone in the family used the same things.

Sometimes he forgot that Marco's family wasn't very well off. They were all so happy, and open, and accepting. It just felt like they were rich. He hoped that he'd learn to live that way too. Maybe Marco could make that change in him, with time. Maybe he could be rich too.

He'd just have to wait and see.

A/N: Hello again friends~! As always, a big thanks to everyone reading, and I really appreciate all of the feedback I've gotten so far. I was actually surprised how well this story has been doing already, and I hope you can all continue to enjoy it.

This chapter was sort of low-key, at least in my opinion. The chapters following this one are a bit more eventful. But I wanted to give these dorks a chance to bond, you know?

So, if you can't tell, I'm a Disney whore. Like, when my whole family goes to the movies, and we're trying to pick out a movie, I will literally always pick whatever Disney movie is in. My little brother and sister are like "let's go watch the Hunger Games!" or "Let's go see this superhero movie!" And I'm like "Let's go watch Frozen for the third time!" And I marathon either anime or Disney movies whenever I sew. Lilo and Stitch is my personal favorite~! I'd love to hear about your favorites too.

Like I mentioned in the last chapter, anything I post on tumblr related to this story goes under fic tmttr. You guys are free to post stuff there too, if it's related. Like, if you have questions or comments, or want to draw something, stuff like that. (Someday I will earn fanart, mark my words!) And if you wanna say hi on tumblr, my username is the same; KuroRiya.

Alrighty, off I go, to write more JeanMarco. I had two wonderful ideas today, and I think some oneshots are in order! Thanks, as always, for reading. And if you have the time, feedback is appreciated!

KuroRiya  
九六りや


	6. Chapter 6

They ended up forgetting about prom after that. It slipped from their minds somewhere between waking up to Marco's brother perched on top of them, claiming they had slept naked on the couch despite the fact that they had both retained their boxers, and getting their sorry asses to school. Or maybe it was that first class, Statistics, that did it.

Whatever the reason, neither of them recalled the conversation from the previous night. It wasn't that it was unimportant, it just wasn't urgent. Prom wasn't for a couple months yet, so there was no sense in fretting about it then anyway. They went about their daily business, stealing more than a few kisses in the days that passed.

It wasn't until Armin started talking about it at lunch a few weeks later that Marco remembered.

"Uh-huh, I'm still trying to convince Eren that pastel blue would be the best color to wear." He explained to the entire lunch table. "I've already got my outfit picked out. Tuxes are a little too stuffy for me, but Eren wants to get one. But when I told him it needed to be pastel blue to match me, he started grumbling!" He complained, frowning.

Marco smiled at his friend, making note of his attire. On that day, it consisted of a huge pastel blue sweater, a black shirt peeking out from a few heart shaped holes in the fabric, with a pair of creamy pink leggings. And his fingers were painted to match the leggings. While Marco had never quite grasped Armin's style, he could appreciate it. Armin was cute enough to pull it off. And Marco had always had a weakness for those black platform boots that Armin was wearing. They were his favorites. The boy was just lucky that Eren Jaeger was more than willing to stand up to anyone who would dare bully him for it.

"Armin, you have to remember, Eren isn't a pastel goth." He laughed. Armin only shrugged.

"Well, if he thinks I'm going to let him wear some bland black tux, then he asked the wrong boy to prom." The blonde huffed, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest. "At least his vest and shirt need to be colorful!"

Marco laughed, ruffling his hair. It had been pink all week, but the dye was fading, so it was probably due for a new hue. Armin batted his hand away, giggling even as he flattened it back down.

"Well, what about you?" Armin demanded, grinning up at the taller teen.

"What about me?" Marco wondered, quirking a brow. Armin rolled his big blue eyes, mascaraed lashes making the color stand out even more.

"You know what I'm talking about. Did Jean ask you? Or maybe you asked him?" He prompted, smiling.

"Oh!" Marco gasped, eyes going wide. "Oh my gosh, I forgot!" He groaned, burying his face in his hands. Armin blinked next to him, then placed a hand on his back.

"You forgot to ask?" He guessed.

"No!" Marco cried, coming out of his fingered hiding place. "I forgot that _he _asked _me_!" He wailed, biting his lip.

"Er… Why is that bad?" Armin wondered. "I mean, he asked, right?"

"Yeah, like, a month and a half ago!" Marco groaned, putting his head down on the table.

The blonde looked to the other people sitting at the table, just to make sure he wasn't the only one confused. He was glad to see everyone else looked just as lost as he was. Still, he tried to comfort his friend, patting his back gently, hoping it was soothing.

"Um, okay, I still don't see the problem, but, uh…" He began, biting his lip. He slumped when he realized what he'd done though, reaching for his lipstick and licking the color off of his teeth.

"The problem," Marco mumbled, "Is that now we only have about a month until then!"

Armin popped his lips, now perfectly cotton candy pink again, and pursed them instead of biting.

"Yeah, we do prom pretty early." He agreed. "But what's the issue? You know who you're going with! And there's plenty of time to get tickets!" He reasoned, glancing at the clock and beginning the process of cleaning up his lunch.

Marco could only frown, mood already sinking.

"It's an issue because I haven't been saving." He explained, finishing his pudding.

Armin's eyes widened as he finally understood, and then his face quickly fell into a frown.

"Oh… I forgot… Are you going to be able to rent a tux? I'm sure you could still scrounge it up. And maybe Jean could help you out?" He suggested, shouldering his bag. Marco quickly shook his head.

"No, he shouldn't have to help me with something like that!" He replied, frowning. His financial issues were not something he wanted to inconvenience Jean with. "And I have to buy a ticket too… And I'll need to find a couple of girls willing to help us get in." He continued, groaning as he realized how much he still had to do. "Who are you and Eren going with?" He wondered.

"Officially speaking, Eren is going with Mikasa, and I'm going with Annie. But we're trading as soon as we get in." He responded. "I wish the school would just give up on the 'no gay couples' rule. We all go together anyway." He groused, standing as the bell rang. Marco got up too, putting on his backpack.

"Let me know if you know any girls that want to go and haven't been asked yet." He plead, and Armin nodded.

"I will. And if there's anything else I can help with, you know you can count on me." He assured Marco, ignoring the little sigh the taller gave. "Uh, just try to keep Jean away from Eren." He warned. Marco blinked, looking at the blonde with confusion. Armin rolled his eyes. "Apparently they know each other from elementary school, and they have a habit of picking fights with each other whenever they can." He elaborated. Marco sighed. Honestly, he was wondering who exactly Jean got into fights with. He'd never witnessed something like that. Apparently he just wasn't getting the opportunity. It was a bit strange to think that he had been so close to Jean without even knowing it; He'd been friends with Eren and Armin for ages, and maybe, with different timing, he might have met Jean much sooner. Oh well; he was just happy to have met him at all.

"Alright, I'll do my best!" He called as Armin scurried off to get to class. The blonde smiled and waved, disappearing from the cafeteria.

Even as Marco shuffled into class, his mind was filled with worries about prom. It always sounded good in theory, but there was actually a lot that went into it. He was going to have to find money for a tux, and money for a ticket, and he was going to have to figure out how to get in with Jean. One of the many reasons to move away as soon as possible; Only couples were allowed to go to prom, and only male female couples.

Luckily, there were a lot of girls that wanted to go to prom that didn't have a date. A lot of people would go with random strangers or people they barely knew just to get in, then they'd separate and find their friends. That was how all of the gay couples did it too. Marco would have to remember to start asking pretty much every female he came across if they were available for prom.

When he got to class, he sat next to Jean, smiling despite his worries and slipping him a kiss as he sat down. Jean returned the smile and the kiss, nudging his boyfriend playfully.

"Have a good lunch?" He wondered. Marco grimaced, trying to force a smile. He didn't want Jean worrying about him needlessly. He'd get it figured out by himself.

"Uh-huh. How was English?"

Jean groaned, and Marco snickered at the noise, but Jean didn't get a chance to complain further. The teacher arrived and began class, and the two boys were forced into attentive silence.

After school let out they made their usual locker runs and headed out for Jean's car. They just sat for a couple minutes in the parking lot while Jean took a few drags on a cigarette. Marco frowned, thinking about all the negative effects of smoking, and imagining every single one happening to Jean. Even just thinking about having to visit Jean in the hospital as he slowly withered away into cancerous doom was enough to make his heart skip a beat in the most petrifying of ways.

"You really ought to stop smoking." He reasoned, though he still caught himself sniffing appreciatively at the wafting tendrils of smoke, despite the vision he'd just had. Jean turned, looking at him, then back at the cigarette, as if contemplating both.

Marco was a little surprised when he snuffed it out in the car's ashtray and tossed the pack into Marco's lap.

"Alright." He agreed, twisting the key and turning the car on. Marco blinked, glancing down at the little plastic-wrapped cardboard package.

"Uh… Alright?" He prompted.

"Yeah. I'll quit." Jean replied, shrugging. "If you want me to."

Marco looked down at the package again, then at his boyfriend incredulously. Just like that?

"R-Really?" He demanded. Jean shrugged again, pulling out of his parking space with ease, carefully avoiding the lingering traffic of students escaping the parking lot after a long day.

"Yeah. I only really started smoking to calm down after fights with my dad, you know? I don't really need them anymore." He reasoned. "I can just come see you." He pointed out, sending a grin Marco's way.

The freckled boy blushed, but he nodded, leaving the package on his lap to be disposed of when they got to his house. He wanted to kiss Jean, but knew better than to bother him when he was driving. So he settled for just grinning like a dope, feet tapping to the beat of some grungy song he didn't know.

When they got to the house, he made quick work of throwing the pack of cigarettes into the garbage, and then he emptied a container of old leftovers over it so that Jean wouldn't be tempted to try and retrieve the nicotine. Jean only scoffed, opening the freezer and pulling out a pizza, setting the oven to preheat before he wrapped his boyfriend up in his arms and kissed him.

Marco smiled, poking his tongue out to taste the other boy, relishing in what might be the last bit of tobacco he'd ever taste. It was a parting he was willing to deal with if it meant Jean would be healthier. Jean backed him up till his butt hit the counter, holding him by the hips as he plunged forward, taking Marco's languid mood to his advantage. Marco let himself be moved, body mostly limp, leaning against the counter to keep himself upright.

They parted with a hum on Jean's part, and he nuzzled into the freckled teen's shoulder.

"You're awfully passive today." He mused, kissing a patch of freckles he found under Marco's ear. The other boy giggled.

"Mmm, I guess so. I think I'd rather let you do what you want." Marco decided, hands coming up to lazily wrap around Jean's shoulders. The other teen grinned, pressing Marco harder against the counter.

"Oh yeah?" He breathed, kissing right under Marco's jaw bone. It sent a shudder down the taller boy's spine, a low whine parting his lips.

"Mhm." He replied, drawing out the sound. "After all, you did something for me today." He breathed, fingers flexing just before combing through the tawny top half of Jean's hair. He felt the other boy shiver under the attention, and the corners of his lips tugged up into a faint smile.

Jean brought their lips together again, more urgency making his kiss a bit sloppy. Marco stayed still though, letting Jean move him as he pleased. But he was more than aware of the tightness pooling in his stomach.

Marco wasn't new to the feeling. He and Jean had partaken in a quite a few make out sessions, and a few of them had gotten pretty intense. But Jean had always pulled back before it got any further than some cautious touches and awkward trips to the bathroom. But they'd at least established that there was a mutual desire between them. And Marco could appreciate that Jean was taking it slow, most likely for him.

That didn't stop him from gently rolling his hips into Jean's, earning a breathy moan that he swallowed eagerly, hands coming down to rest on Jean's hips too, holding him close so that he wouldn't try to back off. They parted, and Jean took a moment to stare at the darker teen, then he pulled him back down, one arm slung around his neck, the other trailing down between his body and the counter to grab at Marco's ass.

Marco giggled, chest expanding with the laughter. Jean huffed, but didn't let go, hushing his boyfriend with another kiss. Marco sobered quickly, humming into the kiss and copping a feel of his own. But he decided that slipping his hand up the other boy's shirt was-

"Marco?"

The two teens yelped, sloppily separating from each other before looking towards the source of the voice, eyes wide and cheeks red.

"Ma-Marie!" Marco breathed, trying to straighten his appearance a bit. The girl looked unimpressed and even, dare he say it, annoyed.

"Marco, you shouldn't touch people's butts in the kitchen." She scolded. "It's naughty." She added, pulling her backpack off before crossing her pudgy little arms over her chest.

Both of the boys blinked at the eight year old, then they laughed in unison, gasping for air whenever they could. Jean actually hit the floor after a few seconds. Marie looked entirely fed up, and Marco _did _feel a little bad about what she'd witnessed, so he stifled his giggles, walking over to her.

"Alright, Marie, I'm sorry. I won't touch his butt in the kitchen again." He promised, getting down on her level. She pouted.

"Cross your heart?" She demanded. He chuckled, pushing back some of her dark bangs.

"And hope to die." He agreed. Finally, her stance loosened, and she was apparently done being angry. "Now, what did you come in here for in the first place?" He wondered, taking her backpack from where she'd dropped it on the floor and hanging it on the rack that'd been drilled into the wall for that exact purpose.

Her eyes lit up with remembrance, and she pointed. Marco followed her finger with his eyes, and then scoffed.

"Marie, you know you aren't supposed to have cookies before supper." He reprimanded. He watched as she went from cute to pouting in a split second.

"And you aren't supposed to be touching people's butts in the kitchen." She retorted. The freckled teen regarded her for a moment, then shrugged.

"Fair enough. Don't tell mom." He warned, opening the cookie jar and handing the waiting girl two chocolate chip cookies.

"I won't!" She assured, grinning.

"Cross your heart?" Marco asked, and she rolled her eyes.

"And hope to die." She replied, scampering out of the kitchen. They could hear her feet on the stairs as she rushed up them, then they glanced at each other and laughed.

"Oh man, you let your five-year-old sister boss you around!" Jean accused.

"First of all, she's eight, and second of all, you don't mess with Marie." Marco said with a small shudder. "That girl could mess you up." He added. Jean scoffed.

"Whatever, she's eight and like, this big." He said, holding his hand close to the floor to inaccurately represent the little girl's height.

"I am four feet tall!" Marie screeched, reentering the kitchen. Jean jumped, eyes going wide as he was glared down by his boyfriend's sister.

"O-Oh, right, sorry." He apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. Marie put her hands on her hips, one cookie still in hand.

"I want milk." She announced, looking pointedly at Jean.

"Uh, o-okay." He offered, pulling down a cup and quickly filling it with milk from the fridge, a few drops hitting the counter. Marie took it, eyes still narrowed at the teenager. With one final glance, she took off for the stairs again. The boys waited for her footsteps to disappear, then Marco snickered.

"You were saying?" He laughed, ripping a paper towel from the roll and cleaning up the drops of milk.

"Oh shut it." Jean hissed, face going red. His only saving grace was that the buzzer for the oven went off to inform them that it was ready to accept the pizza. Jean jumped at the opportunity to change the subject, putting it in himself, and Marco had a hard time upholding his end of the bargain with Marie, tempted to grab his boyfriend's ass, seeing as it was so perfectly displayed before him. But he showed every ounce of his restraint and managed to keep his hands to himself.

Jean stood back up with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair.

"Well, after dealing with your sister, I have pretty much negative boner." He announced, leaning against the counter. Marco nodded, smiling awkwardly.

"Me too. But I mean, the kitchen wasn't the best place for that anyway." He pointed out. Jean shrugged.

"How long do you have to keep promises in this house?" He wondered. "Because I think the kitchen is a great place for a game of grabass." He added, grinning wolfishly as Marco nudged his shoulder.

"Oh quit it. That could have been a lot worse! We're lucky Marie is young enough that she didn't know what we were up to!" He groaned. "What if it had been Nardo? We might have scarred him!"

Jean scoffed, tugging the freckled teen over and slotting their lips together.

"He'd get over it."

"Jean!" Marco snapped, but there was no bite to it. Not when he was smiling and drawing closer for more kisses. Jean only hummed, running his fingers through dark locks before letting the other go.

"Mmm, I love you babe."

A/N: Sorry that this one took a bit longer than usual. To be honest, I've been very busy lately. I worked a gaming convention this past weekend, have a Harry Potter carnival to work this weekend, and then a convention the weekend after that. I have a lot I have to do to get ready for the next two events, so I've been pretty stressed and pressed for time.

Truth be told, it might be two or three weeks before the next update. I know that sucks, since it's been pretty quick so far, but I need to focus on my sewing and painting until after these two events. But I didn't want to leave you guys with no update and no explanation for so long, you know? So here is a quick chapter, and an update on my personal life. Let's just hope I get everything done on time.

In other news; People have already started using the tag on tumblr~! It isn't much, yet, but it's still something! I've gotten a bit of fanart, and I want to say a huge thank you to those that made it for me! If anyone makes fanart, or does anything fan related for my story, you can tag it on tumblr with the tag "fic tmttr" and I will see it. I check it pretty often, and it warms my heart when something new pops up. You're free to ask me any questions about the story there too. You guys have been great thus far, and I hope you stay along for the ride!

So, I need to get back to work. Thanks, as always, for reading, as well as for all of the feedback thus far. It keeps me going, you know? If you have time, the feedback is always appreciated. I love hearing what you guys think and feel. Until next time!

KuroRiya  
九六りや


	7. Chapter 7

Both boys blinked, staring at each other for an awkward second before both broke away with a thick blush on their cheeks.

Marco had thought the same thing to himself about a hundred times, but never had he dared to voice it aloud. He'd been waiting for Jean to say it first. After all, he had no idea when it was appropriate to admit to something like that. He just assumed Jean would know better.

But considering how quickly the boy was apologizing for saying it, maybe it was still too soon? Marco still couldn't help but smile, albeit nervously.

"I-I didn't mean to say that out loud, I was just, you know… Uh, caught up in the moment, and-" Jean was rambling, fingers wringing together nervously and eyes on the floor. Marco put him out of his misery, shutting him up with a kiss. It was effective.

"Jean," He breathed, pulling away and holding the other teen's face in his. "It's alright."

They just stared at each other for a moment, then Jean visibly relaxed.

"Me too." Marco added, smiling. "I have for a while now, but I wasn't sure when it would be a good time to say it." He explained, pressing his lips to Jean's again.

"Jesus, babe, I'm sorry." Jean muttered. "I-" He hesitated. "I didn't mean to freak out."

Marco shook his head, pressing their foreheads together and grabbing for Jean's hands.

"It's just… I ruined one of my best relationships by saying that too soon." He explained, squeezing Marco's fingers.

The freckled teen frowned, bending down a bit so that Jean would have to look at him, even if he stared at the ground like he was doing. He watched his expression for a few seconds, then offered a soft smile.

"Well, I'm sorry that that happened. But I might not have met you if not for that." He pointed out, stooping for a kiss. Jean finally managed a small smile, lifting his face to look at his boyfriend at last.

"Yeah. She was a bitch anyway." He mused, pulling Marco closer and hugging him tightly.

"Oh, come on, I'm sure she wasn't that bad!" Marco chided. Jean scoffed.

"Trust me, baby. She's the sort you don't want to mess with." He warned, resting his head against the other teen's shoulder, taking a breath. Marco didn't argue further, opting instead to wrap his arms around Jean instead, swaying slowly.

"Hmmm, baby, I'm a terrible dancer." Jean grumbled, earning a laugh.

"I'd say so if swaying side to side is dancing in your book." Marco quipped, kissing the other's cheek. Jean snorted, pushing away from the motion as the timer went off. He pulled the pizza out, setting it on top of the stove while he pulled out drawers in search of a pizza cutter.

"Second on the right." Marco directed, pointing to the correct drawer. Jean opened it and, sure enough, found the desired utensil. Marco hummed, getting some paper plates from the other side of the counter. "You've made yourself at home, huh?" He laughed, nudging his boyfriend's arm with the plates.

"Mhm. You guys actually have teenager food, so I think I'm moving in." He joked. Marco grinned, holding the two plates out to receive the now sliced pizza.

"I wouldn't mind, but you'll have to talk to Marie to make sure it's okay." He replied, heading to the table with the plates in tow. He heard Jean groan from where he'd left him.

"But Maaarco, she hates me!" The two-toned teen whined, fishing two cans of soda out of the refrigerator and following behind his companion.

"She does not hate you, you baby." Marco promised, scooting one of the plates over and stealing one of the sodas. Jean huffed, but didn't argue it further, sitting down in the chair next to the freckled boy and getting started on his half of the meal.

"But, seriously," Marco added after a pause. "I don't think anyone would mind."

Jean hesitated, putting down the bite he was about to take. He seemed to be thinking about it for a moment, but eventually shook his head.

"As much as I'd like to live with you, I'll stick it out till I'm eighteen." He decided. "You guys have enough kids to feed and clothe without me hanging around." He pointed out. "Er… Well, I'll still eat your food. Sorry 'bout your luck on that, Bodt."

Marco rolled his eyes, getting back to work on his half of the pizza, which was quickly dwindling.

"I don't mind." He replied, getting up to fetch some napkins, handing a couple to Jean before wiping his fingers off and taking his plate to the trash. Jean wasn't far behind.

"Anyway, what's on the to-do list today?" He wondered, dragging his backpack over to the table. Jean groaned, but followed suit, yanking his homework out and spreading it out on the surface.

"English and statistics." He replied, pulling those from the stack of papers and laying them out in front of Marco. The latter looked them over, then smiled wryly.

"This isn't so hard." He promised, starting with the English assignment.

They worked through it together, managing to get all of their homework done, leaving their weekend free for schmoozing. Of course, just as they were packing up with intentions of terrorizing Marco's younger siblings, Mrs. Bodt opened the front door, calling to the entire household to alert them of her arrival.

Plans thwarted, the boys sighed, but came to greet her.

"Hey mom." Marco offered, leaning over to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She smiled, patting his back in return.

Jean stood a couple of inches behind Marco, shuffling his feet in a display of ineffable awkwardness.

"Hi Mrs. Bodt." He finally managed, and she huffed, taking a few steps forward and wrapping him up in a hug too.

"I think it's about time you start calling me mom." She decided, kissing his cheek.

Marco watched with amusement as Jean's face lit up red, eyes wide with surprise. And when he tried to speak, it came out a stuttering mess.

"I-I, um, I mean, I… Er… Ma-I…"

Mrs. Bodt sighed, smile still in place.

"Don't have an aneurysm, sweetie." She suggested, opening her arms wide to the stampede of children that had started trickling down the stairs. Marie was last, and Marco groaned as she came down the steps, face covered with crumbs from the cookies he'd slipped her.

Sure enough, Mrs. Bodt gave her daughter a pointed look, bending down to wipe the crumbs off.

"Well now, it looks like someone had a cookie before dinner." She said, and Marie froze, brown eyes going wide with fear and panic. She looked around desperately, probably seeking a distraction. Her wide eyes fell upon Marco. Said teen narrowed his eyes.

"Don't you dare-"

"Marco touched Jean's butt in the kitchen!" She announced quickly, and Mrs. Bodt turned her gaze to her son. There was amusement mixed in with her stern expression, but Marco gulped nonetheless.

"Did he now?" She asked, and Marie nodded furiously.

"Yes! He touched it lots!" She elaborated, opening her arms wide to show just how much 'lots' was. Mrs. Bodt gave a scandalized gasp.

"Lots?!" She demanded, and Marie nodded again. "Well then, it sounds like someone's due for a time out." She decided, looking pointedly at Marco. His jaw dropped, and he groaned.

"Mom, I'm eighteen years old, and-" He began, but she cut him off.

"And still living in my house. You know the rules. 10 minutes on the couch, no talking." She delegated. He whined low in his throat, throwing a withering glare at his sister.

"But mooom… Jean touched my butt in the kitchen too!" He protested, earning an offended grunt from his boyfriend, not to mention a swift nudge in the shoulder.

"Oh really?" She inquired, earning a nod from Marco this time. "Well, now that that's come to light, I think I'll have to put you both in time out." She announced with a sigh, shrugging as if they'd given her no choice.

She herded the boys towards the couch, and Marco watched Marie stick her little pink tongue out at him. He was just about to tattle when Mrs. Bodt paused, turning back to Marie.

"You too, little trouble maker." She called, and Marie's eyes widened.

"W-What?" She questioned, backing away a bit. Mrs. Bodt smiled wryly.

"Regardless of who touched who's butt, you still ate a cookie before dinner." She replied, grabbing the girl's hand and dragging her to the couch, plopping her down between Jean and Marco and giving them all the stink eye. "Ten minutes, no talking." She reiterated before going back into the kitchen. Marie crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back on the couch and pouting.

Marco couldn't keep himself from a bit of silent laughter as he watched Jean fall into almost the same position, glaring over at him as if a ten minute timeout was really putting a damper on his mood. Marco made a kissy face at him until his façade cracked, and he grinned, sticking his tongue out at his boyfriend.

Jean snickered, mouthing an obscenity, and Marco responded with another silly face. Jean snorted this time, and Marie sat up straight.

"Moooom! Marco's making Jean laugh!" She cried, earning a glare from both sides.

"Are they talking?" Mrs. Bodt called back, not emerging from the kitchen. Marie scowled, sinking back into sulking.

"No." She called back, huffing.

And so they continued with their antics, annoying Marie to no end to make up for her tattling on them. When the ten minutes were over, she stomped up to her room, blowing a raspberry in their general direction.

"Love you too, Marie!" Marco called as she slammed her door. He and Jean both laughed, waiting a minute or so before chancing the trip up the stairs as well, shutting themselves in Marco's room and flopping down on the bed, lying side by side. They were quiet for a while, just listening to their breaths and pressing their arms together. Then Jean huffed.

"Your sister is a nightmare. Who knew?" He said, and Marco laughed.

"I told you, you don't mess with Marie." He replied, shrugging, the motion pulling the sleeve of Jean's t-shirt up a bit. "But you know, the fact that she got you in trouble means she's getting used to you." He pointed out with a smile that was all teeth. Jean sighed.

"If that's what becoming part of the family means, then I think I'll skip." He decided. Marco hummed, patting around blindly against the mattress until he found Jean's hand, which he enveloped with his own.

"Aww, come on Jean, everyone looooves you!" Marco cooed, leaning over and pressing his lips to his boyfriend's red cheek. Jean grumbled incoherently, and Marco continued to smile. "Me too. I love you too." He announced shyly, looking away with embarrassment.

Jean's head snapped to look at him, and he sat up, pulling on Marco's shoulders to get him sitting up too, then he crushed their lips together before Marco had any chance to ask questions. The freckled boy couldn't help but struggle a bit at first, out of pure surprise. But he quickly melted into it, letting Jean press kiss after kiss to his lips till his head was spinning.

He didn't even say anything as Jean shifted, straddling his legs for a better angle, lowering them both towards the mattress. He only whined appreciatively, hands reaching for the soft hair he'd found himself fond of touching recently, raking through it slowly, holding Jean close.

They both groaned when Mrs. Bodt announced that dinner was ready, hollering up the stairs. With a bit of effort, they extracted themselves from each other, taking a few seconds to flatten their hair and straighten their rumpled clothes.

"Well, on the bright side, at least she called for us before we started popping boners." Marco mused, shrugging. Jean groaned.

"Baby, don't say that word, it's dirty." He complained, picking a strand of Marco hair off of his Misfits shirt, tossing it carelessly to the floor. Marco quirked a brow.

"What, boner?" He asked, and Jean shuddered.

"Yes, boner. Don't say that. You're too gorgeous to say something so crude." He explained, and Marco scoffed before he could stop himself.

"Seriously? I'm not some princess-" He began, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Says the guy that wore a sweater vest to a party." Jean interrupted, smirking as he left the room, power walking to the stairs with Marco hot on his trail.

"You said it was dashing!" Marco accused, and Jean cackled, hopping a few stairs.

"I said no such thing!" He called over his shoulder, sliding a bit at the bottom of the stairs thanks to his socks and his haste.

"You can't take it back whenever it's convenient!" Marco groused, taking care not to trip as he got to the bottom as well.

At that point they'd entered the kitchen, and their conversation was swallowed by the idle hum of chatter that accompanied any meal in the Bodt house. Marco grabbed a plate for the both of them, handing one to Jean and getting to work making his plate.

Before they left the kitchen to join the others at the table though, Jean leaned over and pecked him on the lips.

"I did like the sweater vest." He whispered, sauntering into the dining room and claiming his place next to Nardo, nodding a hello to Mr. Bodt. Marco rolled his eyes, following after and saying hello to his father, exchanging one of those trademark Bodt smiles.

They ate dinner, and got to watch a couple episodes of Supernatural with the family, then Jean said his goodbye.

"Really? Why don't you just stay?" Marco wondered, looking at the clock. "It's getting pretty late." He pointed out. Jean shook his head, shoving his feet into his boots and lacing them while he spoke.

"Nah, I want to stay over tomorrow. And the old man'll have a fit if I'm gone two days in a row." He reasoned, getting started on the second boot.

Marco bit his lip. He really wanted Jean to stay. After all, they'd kind of used the L word for the first time that day, and he wanted nothing more than to spend the whole night snuggled in Jean's arms. But he could understand the other teen's view. Saturday was a better day to hang out, and they'd get to spend more time together if Jean came over early in the morning, which he likely would.

"Well, alright. Call me later, okay?" Marco requested, and Jean nodded, standing up and shoving his hands into the pockets of his trusty leather jacket. Marco shook his head, smiling. "One of these days Jean, I'm going to steal this jacket." He promised, running his finger down the leather. Jean smiled too, leaning in for a quick kiss.

"I'll hold you to it. Talk to you later, babe." He called, letting himself out.

"Yeah, I'll be waiting!" Marco replied, watching out of the window as Jean got into his car and started down the road.

Once he was out of sight, he sighed. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard his mother giggle.

"M-Mom?" He yelped, turning to see her standing in the hallway.

"He told you he loved you, didn't he?" She guessed, and a blush covered his cheeks in naught but a split second.

"U-Um…" He hesitated, not sure how he should answer that one. She only grinned knowingly, walking closer and squeezing his arm.

"He's a keeper Marco. But he's skinny as a skeleton, you need to fatten him up." She proclaimed, and he couldn't help but laugh. She laughed with him, but sobered, patting his back. "But really Marco, take care of him. I can tell that he has it a little rough, and you're good for him."

Marco nodded, smile still in place.

"And I think he's been good for you too." She mused, reaching up to pinch his nose. "You're actually talking to people."

Marco groaned, throwing his arms up in the air.

"I talked to people before Jean!" He groused, and she leveled him with a hard stare.

"Besides Armin?" She specified. He faltered, swallowing.

"U-Um… Mikasa and Eren?" He tried, and she barked a laugh.

"You only talked to them because they came with Armin. Now hush, boy. You know I'm right." She chided, turning on her heel and heading back for the kitchen. "All I'm saying is, he's a nice kid, deep down under all those holes in his face and the scary bands he wears on his shirts. You two are good together." She finished, disappearing into the living room.

Marco stared after her for a moment, then trudged up the stairs, laying out on his bed once again. He didn't need his mother to tell him those things, really. He already knew how wonderful Jean was under the grungy exterior. He already knew that his social anxiety was slowly but surely decreasing as Jean introduced him to new people and helped him through tough conversations. It wasn't that he couldn't make friends; Marco had always been friendly, and most people he _did_ talk to tended to like him. But he was afraid of taking that first step, scared of what people thought of him.

Jean was a good influence, because Jean cared so very little about what people thought. It was refreshing, and Marco was glad that it had been rubbing off on him.

But as much as Jean was good for him, he was good for Jean. He went to class now, did his homework, passed his tests. His GPA had improved already by the time they got their quarterly reports. Teachers, at least the ones that hadn't refused to work with them, were constantly taking him aside and telling him how proud they were of his progress. And Marco was glad. Jean was going to graduate alongside him. Maybe it didn't count for much, but it was one of the first things they'd ever accomplish together.

He was excited, but also a bit drained, and he didn't even realize that he was dozing off until a shrill rendition of Bullets For My Valentine started blaring from his pocket, and he gasped, sitting up in bed in a panicked daze.

After calming down, he managed to fish his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, pressing the answer button and bringing it to his ear.

"Hello?" He greeted, wincing at how gravelly his voice sounded.

"Hey baby."

It was Jean, and a grin found its way to his face quickly.

"I'm sorry for waking you up." Jean added, sighing into the receiver. Marco shook his head, then remembered that Jean couldn't see it.

"No, it's okay, it's my fault for falling asleep after asking you to call me." He replied quickly.

"Well, I should have called earlier." Jean admitted, and Marco heard him sigh again. That might not have been a good sign.

"It's alright! At least you called." He said easily, dopey smile coming to his lips. Still, he glanced at the clock to see just how late Jean was calling. He gasped.

"Oh!" He exclaimed, checking again just in case. "Oh wow, it's four AM!"

Jean was quiet for a while, and Marco frowned.

"Jean?" He prompted, still receiving no reply. "Jean, what's wrong? Why _are _you calling so late… Er… Early?"

Again, it was quiet for a while, but finally Jean caved, sighing one more time.

"…Me and the old man got into it again." He admitted, and Marco sucked in a breath of air. "He… He asked why I was so late getting home, and wanted to know why I was always out till eight every day. And… Well, I got pissed off." He explained. Marco bit his lip, holding tightly to his phone.

"I sort of… I sort of told him about us. Screamed it at him, actually." He said, pausing. "He… Uh… Well, you can imagine, he was livid. Swore at me for a good couple hours, then tried to lock me up in my room." He continued.

As if Marco wasn't worried already, now his heart was pounding.

"A-Are you okay?" He wondered, breath thin.

"Yeah babe, I'm fine. I'm not scared of him like I used to be." Jean laughed, but the sound was bitter. "Um, anyway, I… I broke the door down, and, well, I'm kinda out on your porch." He finished, and Marco blinked.

"…Right now?" He wondered, and Jean scoffed.

"No, next week." He said sarcastically. Marco was already rushing down the stairs, and he threw the door open after fighting with the locks for a while. And there stood Jean, phone still against his ear, a duffle bag over his shoulder. He took a moment to look the younger teen over, top to bottom, then wrapped him up in a tight hug, knocking the wind right out of him.

"Hello to you too, sweetheart." Jean snarked, returning the hug nonetheless.

"Oh hush, you scared the daylights out of me!" Marco complained, pulling the other into the house, shutting the door and relocking it. Jean rubbed the back of his neck, putting his bag down and sitting on the stairs to take his shoes off again.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to." He offered, grunting with the effort of tugging the boots off. "I just… I needed to get out of there. I haven't seen him that mad in a long time. Last time we duked it out." He explained. Marco frowned, sitting on the stair next to his boyfriend, nuzzling into his side.

"I'm glad you left." He breathed, kissing Jean's cheek softly, holding still while Jean pressed a proper one to his lips.

"Thanks for letting me in, baby." Jean said, offering a small smile as he heaved himself to his feet, grabbing his bag and waiting for Marco to lead him up the stairs. "Looks like we're going to have that sleepover after all."

Marco scoffed, putting one hand on the railing and one in Jean's free hand, pulling him up the stairs and into his bedroom, keeping it down as he passed by the rooms of his sleeping siblings. Once they were inside and the door was closed, he sighed, pulling Jean over to his bed and collapsing on top of him.

Jean groaned under his weight but couldn't hide a little chuckle as he shoved him away, standing up and shucking his jacket and pants. Marco watched with fascination, pretending he hadn't been ogling the other as soon as he turned around with a quirked brow.

"Were you just checking me out?" He demanded. Marco did his best to keep a straight face.

"Uh, no, of course not! That'd be totally gay." He pointed out, still not tearing his eyes away even as he said it. Jean rolled his eyes, walking back over to the bed and sitting himself right on Marco's lap, knees on either side of his hips.

"Oh no, we wouldn't want that." He lamented sarcastically, fingers coming up to tangle in Marco's already messy bedhead, pulling him forward till their lips met, sweetly at first but with growing urgency. Marco whined into it, letting himself fall backwards on the mattress so that Jean was laying on top of him, lips not parting even as they moved.

When Jean finally pulled away from him, they gasped, and he looked down into eyes the color of rum, the iris being quickly overtaken by the black of pupils. It had been a long time since he'd seen someone's arousal so clear on their face.

"Jeez babe, are you horny, or what?" He wondered. Marco blushed, rolling over and trying to cover his face with his arms, rather unsuccessfully. Jean only smiled, kissing whatever skin he could get at. "Sorry, I shouldn't have made fun of you. It's alright." He promised, trying to pull Marco closer and to get him on his back again. It took some coaxing, but the freckled teen finally complied, shifting to lay on the bed properly, head resting against his pillows.

Jean offered him a soft kiss, rubbing circles gently into his arm in a bid to sooth his embarrassment.

"What do you want to do, sweetheart?" He asked against his boyfriend's ear, feeling the other's shiver everywhere their bodies pressed together.

Marco took deliberately slow breaths, trying to catch his mind up with his body. It was proving a difficult task with Jean pressed against him and breathing in his ear.

"I-I, um…" He stuttered, blinking rapidly, nerves sending his heart pounding.

Jean kissed him again, hands coming up to card through his hair gently, fingers trailing pleasantly against his scalp.

"Relax. I won't do anything you don't want, alright? You have my word. The second you say 'no,' I'll back off. But I'd like some idea of what you want." He requested, lips pressing against a particularly dense patch of freckles on his shoulder. Marco shuddered, biting his lip.

"I don't really… Uh… What are my options?" He wondered shyly. Jean pulled back, looking down at him with a bit of wonder.

"…Wow, you're really something, you know that, Bodt?" He laughed. Marco groaned, covering his face with his hands.

"Well, I'm sorry! I've never done something like this!" He snapped, earning an amused laugh from his boyfriend.

"Alright, alright, quit covering your face." Jean commanded, pulling his hands away. He looked down at the freckled boy, licking his lips. "I have to make a sex menu, god… There are a few things we could do. Er… A lot of things, actually. But I'm kinda going to assume that you want to start with something a little… Uh… Less intrusive." He explained.

His face felt like it was on fire, but Marco nodded, brows knitting.

"Right. So, uh… I could just get you off. You know, with my hand." He offered. "Or I could blow you, if you think you can handle it."

Well, if he was blushing before, he was close to exploding after hearing that.

"Whoa there babe, calm down!" Jean said, thumbs rubbing softly against his cheekbones in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "I haven't even done anything yet!" He pointed out.

"I-I know!" Marco mumbled, closing his eyes. "I just… God, I don't know how to deal with this." He admitted, pursing his lips.

Jean smiled, unable to think his boyfriend's face was anything but adorable.

"Well, you could start by telling me what you want." He suggested softly, receiving a nod from the boy beneath him. He waited for a response. And waited, and waited. "Uh, babe?" He prompted. Marco only whined, covering his face again.

Jean sighed, running a hand over his face. Apparently Marco wouldn't be providing any input, so he'd just have to dive in, and pay attention to the other teen's reactions. That decided, he started rolling the thin t-shirt covering Marco's torso upward, managing to get the boy cooperative enough to get it over his head.

"Shhh, baby, relax." He cooed, kissing down his chest and rubbing over his hipbones. He loved the little bit of pudge covering the protrusions, and his stomach. He'd decided, the first time he'd seen it, that it was the best pudge in the world, and was made to be cherished. So he spent a little extra time pressing kisses to it, earning a few gasps from the teen he was showering with affection.

He took a moment to take his own shirt off, then thumbed gently at the other male's boxers, looking up at the one they were covering.

Marco felt his butterflies return about a hundred fold when Jean finally got to that last bit of clothing. To say he was nervous was pretty much the understatement of his life. He trusted Jean, of course. But he had never done anything like this with anyone, and thousands of uncertainties and concerns flitted at the forefront of his consciousness.

What if he messed something up, did something horribly wrong? What would Jean think? What would he do? What if something was horribly wrong with him? Like, what if there was something down there that wasn't supposed to be? He couldn't imagine anything like that, but how was he to know better? The most he'd seen of the lower half of other humans had been during the swimming segment of P.E. and the one unfortunate run-in he'd had with a porn site.

But he tried to tell himself that he was being stupid, that Jean wouldn't care. He tried to tell himself not to worry. But it was hard, so hard.

Before he could sink too far into insecurities, Jean looked up at him, locking gazes for a few seconds. And he found himself entirely incapable of thinking clearly. That was sort of nice, actually, because he sort of forgot to be embarrassed as Jean slid his boxers off and tossed them somewhere to be forgotten. And he sort of forgot to look away when Jean licked the very tip of his erection. And he sort of forgot to keep his moans quiet as Jean started sucking him off, head moving slowly, tongue working dutifully.

He could feel the piercing, and it quickly gained his attention, offering him a little extra sensory stimulation. Not that he needed it. While he may have never had a blowjob before, he wasn't stupid. Jean was good. He could feel just a little jealousy rising up in his stomach at the thought of anyone else being intimate with Jean. But then he was also a little grateful, since Jean knew what to do, even with an inexperienced loser like himself. It likely would have been a lot more awkward if they were both trying to figure it out as they went.

Jean hummed, and Marco threw his head back, groaning loudly, hands clinging painfully to the sheets of his bed. He whined though when the sensation disappeared, and he chanced a glance downward.

"Baby, I know it's hard, but you should keep quiet." Jean warned, hand coming to stroke at his arousal in the absence of lips. Marco flushed, remembering way too late that he had a whole floor of siblings sleeping around him, only a wall or two away. He quickly clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes going wide with horror.

"Oh my god, I… What if I woke someone up?" He gasped, sitting up a bit. Jean quickly pushed him back down though, shushing him.

"Don't worry about that. Just try to keep it down now, alright?" He suggested, free hand gently stroking his cheek before he sank back down, getting to work again.

This time Marco bit down his moans, or else bit down on his hand to muffle them, body shaking as he put in every effort not to thrust up into Jean's mouth. He'd never even imagined something like this, and even his best fantasies couldn't compare to the feeling of the real thing. He could feel himself unraveling, fingers tangling in Jean's hair, pressing him down a bit with urgency.

Jean took it all in stride, not even gagging or coughing, gently holding his hips down and working him closer and closer to his brink. It was like he knew exactly what to do, and maybe he did, but it didn't really matter because Marco was coming undone anyway.

"J-Jean!" He gasped, tugging gently at the longer hair at the top of his head. "Please-"

The other teen let him fall from his mouth, hand taking over the responsibility of bringing him to climax.

"You're almost there, right baby?" Jean inquired, kissing his stomach and thighs as he waited for an answer. Marco nodded, breathing too harsh to try and get all the necessary words out. Jean smirked, jerking him a little faster and releasing his hips.

Marco moaned as he was given freedom, hips stuttering and then falling into an unsteady pattern of rolling up into Jean's hand. Jean hummed, scooting up a bit and giving some attention to Marco's nipples, very erect already. That nearly sent the teen over the edge, and he clenched his teeth to hold his cries of pleasure in.

"Mmm, I love you, Marco." Jean breathed, kissing his chest, right over where his heart was pounding.

That was it. He was long gone, covering his mouth with his hand just in time to muffle the string of moans that came with his orgasm. It was still too loud, but he couldn't even care, too caught up in his release and the afterglow that started to turn his bones to liquid as he came down.

He sighed, body going entirely limp against his bed, chest heaving as he tried to get his breathing back to normal.

Marco didn't snap back to reality until he heard some quiet panting, and he turned his head to the side. His eyes, which had been lidded with sex-hazed grogginess, widened as he realized what Jean was doing, and he couldn't keep himself from staring as Jean got himself off. He was much hastier about it than he'd been with Marco, jerking himself quickly and coming before Marco even had a chance to offer his assistance.

Jean too took a moment to catch his breath, then he rolled off of the bed, going over to Marco's hamper and retrieving the towel the bigger teen had used after showering earlier. He wiped his hands on it, then came back to the bed and gently wiped at his boyfriend's stomach, ridding it of any sticky mess that had been there. Marco smiled sleepily, opening his arms. Jean grinned as well, tossing the towel carelessly towards the hamper, crawling back onto the mattress and planting himself against Marco's side, resting his hand on the teen's stomach.

Marco hummed, letting his eyes slide shut even as he wrapped his arm around Jean's back, pulling him as close as he could.

"Mm, you should have let me help you." He groused weakly, fingers tracing patterns against the skin they rested on. Jean mumbled, mostly incoherent, and pressed a finger to Marco's lips, earning a soft giggle that rumbled through the larger boy's chest.

"Next time." Marco promised, settling in for the night. Jean nodded weakly, kissing absently at Marco's chest before he shifted a bit, tangling their legs together and reaching for the comforter that had migrated to the end of the bed sometime during their tryst.

More than comfortable, they let the dissonance of their relaxed breathing lull them to sleep, not minding the lingering smell of Jean's aftershave and sex.

A/N: So, I'm done with everything! I don't really have much to worry about until August, aside from my job. But I can juggle work and writing pretty easily, thankfully. Anyway, sorry for the wait, I know it was long, but I'm back in action again, promise!

Cosplacon was a lot of fun, despite my sleep deprivation. I got, literally, six hours of sleep total that weekend. It was a hell of a ride. But it was still fun, and I made new friends! I finally worked up the nerve to check out a BJD meetup, and was pleasantly surprised by how nice they all were. I was still out of my league, but they didn't seem to mind at all!

It's been a while since I've done this, but I think it's about time; You can find me on other sites. I have a cosplay/D20 Girl page on facebook, a Devi, and a Tumblr. If you want to find me anywhere, there are links in my profile. (Since FF won't let me put them in the physical story.)

And that's about it. You're free to message me on any site, I love to chat! And, I've mentioned before, if you have anything related to this story that you want to post to tumblr, or if you just want to ask a question, make an observation, anything, you can tag it with fic tmttr. I'll find it there! (Though it has been acting up recently, thanks to the update. I'll figure it out though.)

That said, I have other stories I need to update! Thank you, as always, for reading, and feedback is appreciated! You guys have been a great audience thus far, and I'm loving writing for you! Till next time~!

KuroRiya

九六りや


End file.
